Learning to Live
by narrazione
Summary: Melbecka Harper was raised to fear almost everything.  As darkness descends on the wizarding world and claims the life of her good friend, she needs the Weasley twins more than ever to help her find her inner strength. OOTP, Fred/Angelina, George/OC
1. Two Unique Boys

*****This is an idea I've had in my head for a long time, and with the new movie coming out super soon (which I'm way too excited about), I finally started getting this written down. It'll be in first person for the rest, I promise, but I felt this first portion worked better in third. Of course, all of the brilliance belongs to JK Rowling, not me. Thanks for checking this out, and I hope you enjoy it enough to stick around for chapter two!*****

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><p>It was a known fact that the middle Weasley children could cause mischief anytime and anywhere as long as their mother was not around. The first time they went to Diagon Alley to accompany their father on a rare shopping trip, they ended up on the border with Knockturn Alley holding a very large, very cranky, very purple owl with no proper explanation as to how they ended up in such a dangerous situation. It was the first sign that either one had any magic in them, unfortunately for the owl and its owner, but while this was normally a cause for celebration, Arthur Weasley really rather wished he'd followed his wife's advice and left his 6 year-old twins at home instead.<p>

Their favorite joke as children, when magic was only a thing the grown-ups did, was to pretend to be each other. This worked for a long time, right up until George lost one of his front teeth but Fred did not. That game was up while they waited for their teeth to fall out together, something they never could quite get in-synch, even when they stole their mother's wand and tried a few makeshift spells to remedy their problem. Those boils made it hard to tell who they were in general, actually.

Then, when Bill, Charlie, and Percy all made their respective treks to Hogwarts, the new game was to rearrange their bedrooms so nothing was quite where it was left. Charlie was not particularly thrown-off by this, since he immediately dumped his belongings on the floor when he came home and hardly knew where anything was, anyway. Bill only ever noticed when his dragon figurine collection, a fantastic set of miniature dragons that all let out the occasional puff of smoke and liked to glare at Fred and George as they were shoved into yet a new hiding spot, went missing. Percy nearly burst into tears the first time he couldn't find his favorite blue shirt, the one he didn't bring to Hogwarts for fear of mussing it up. Molly might have been secretly amused by Bill searching the house for puffs of smoke, but one of her sons crying was not to be tolerated. Room rearranging stopped after that.

Trouble followed these boys, and Molly Weasley knew that sending them to Hogwarts could only result in one of two things. Either they would try one of their silly jokes on the wrong person and have their egos handed to them on a magical platter, or they would find new ways to wreak havoc that would make them even harder to control. Things could have gone either way, really. Luckily, or unluckily for poor Molly's nerves, they got to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters just in time for fate to tip the scales firmly in the second direction, and it came in the form of Melbecka Harper.

Even though they had crossed onto the platform many times before, there was something slightly frightening about doing it because you were actually getting on the train. When it was their turn, carefully placed by Mrs. Weasley to cross after Charlie but before her and Percy so they wouldn't wander off or torment their brightest brother, they shared a slightly nervous look. It was always in the back of their minds that this might be the time they all shared a mass delusion and got the wrong bit of brick, that they would run at it only to bounce off with a nasty headache and a gaggle of muggles staring at them oddly. That fear was increased as they nodded at each other and ran full-speed for the barrier.

And when they were across, they ran full-speed into a pair of girls that were none-too-pleased to have the twins on top of them.

"Get off me or I'll punch you."

George made sure to stand up quickly and, as soon as he was on his feet, he offered a hand down to the girl he had knocked over. Fred, on the other hand, was purposely tangling his legs with the other girl's, apologizing profusely and falsely as he did so. After a few choice words that George was thankful his mother wasn't around for, the girl took George's outstretched hand and used it to hoist herself to her feet. She dusted off her jeans, glared at her now-sideways trunk, and fixed her emerald eyes back on George expectantly. He stared dumbly back as Fred and the girl with dozens of braids in her hair finally managed to get on their feet, but the girl with the ivory skin and the light dotting of freckles across her nose said nothing, only waited. And stared. She was good at it, too, and he shifted his weight uncomfortably as he realized that it had been a painfully long time since she'd blinked.

"Sorry," he mumbled finally, ignoring the ruckus caused by Percy crossing through and crashing into his trunk. His older brother immediately started whining, which made his mother immediately start scolding the back of George's head, which she was positive belonged to Fred.

And the girl continued to wait and stare.

"Ca…can I help you with something?" he asked finally, glancing uneasily to his brother for help. Fred didn't seem to be having the same problem and, in fact, was busy helping right his victim's bag. "Here, let me fix that." Maybe she just had an odd way of asking for help with her trunk.

"Don't touch my things." She didn't snap or snarl at him, merely gave the order like she was telling a small child to put the toy back on the shelf where it belonged. He stopped and turned to his mother for help, but she was busy fussing over Percy's now-mussed hair.

"Well, then, would you stop staring at me? 'S awkward."

"You ran into me."

"You stopped in front of the barrier."

"You knocked me to the ground."

"I helped you back up."

"You overturned my trunk."

"Well, yeah, but I offered to fix that."

She smirked at the lilt of irritation rising in his voice. "You did," she nodded in confirmation. "And I supposed I should take you up on that. I need to get it onto the train, after all."

When Mrs. Weasley called him over for his inspection, which he knew because she asked for Fred and his brother glanced at her so briefly that she couldn't possibly have been looking at the right twin, George knew this trunk was his ticket out. "If I get that onto the train, will you promise never to tell my mum I ran into you?"

She raised her eyebrows and smirked again. "Deal. I'm Melbecka Harper, and that's my neighbor, Angelina Johnson. She's a bit awkward with all this, being half-muggle and all, so if you give her a hard time, I'll have to hurt you."

George had no intention of giving anyone a hard time, of course. Still, he especially planned to steer clear of anyone under Mel's protection. She was easily three inches shorter than him, but she had broad shoulders for a child of only 11, and he knew that, should things get physical, she would easily do a number on him.

"Oi!" George called. Fred turned at his summons, knowing instinctively when his twin needed him. "Help Angelina with her trunk!" George snapped. "I'm Fred. He's George."

Mel and Angie looked at the boys innocent grins and outstretched hands, then at each other, and back at the boys. Finally, Mel reached for George and Angie reached for Fred, shaking in unison.

"George," Mel nodded.

"Nice to meet you, Fred," Angie smiled sweetly.

"No, I'm Fred," George corrected, sharing a look with his brother. These girls were good. This could be fun.

"Liar. Your mum's yelled for Fred and _he_," Mel pointed correctly to Fred, "keeps looking. We're smarter than that."

"But it's all well and good," Angelina assured them. "You're weird. We like weird."

"We do," Mel agreed. "By the way, purely out of curiosity, do the compartment windows open?"

Fred and George shrugged. The thought had never occurred to them. "Haven't the faintest. Why?" Fred asked.

"I was just wondering. In case, say, a dungbomb went off on the train. Hypothetically."

"What're you planning?" Angie eyed her friend warily, but Mel widened her round eyes and slightly puckered her lips into the most convincing innocent face the twins had seen since Ginny insisted she hadn't told Mrs. Weasley about the strange explosions in their room.

"Nothing you need to worry about," Mel shook her head. "Everything's perfectly fine."

Fred and George smiled at each other. This was going to be fun.

FGFGFGFGFGFGF

I first met the Weasley twins that day, and they quickly became my dear friends. But, and I am not ashamed to admit this, I favored one over the other. Not at first, of course, but as our first year progressed, I noticed the differences between them that no one else saw. No one but Angelina and me. No one but us knew them well enough to see it. Everyone else saw them as one person, two halves of a whole, and those people were right. But the twins were also two unique individuals.

So, I come today to tell you my story. It's the story of a young girl finding her way in a world she didn't feel safe in. Finding her place and getting the justice she never knew she was looking for. It is a story about learning to trust and conquering fear and dancing with fate.

I come to tell you the story of a group of friends that could never be torn apart. We had our fights and disagreements, but we always came back to each other in the end. We found friendship and love together, and used that to keep fighting the good fight.

And, lastly, I come to tell you the story of two brothers. Two unique boys, tied together with a bond that no one will ever understand. So please meet Fred Weasley. Meet George Weasley.

See, I knew them better than anyone else. I can proudly say that I gave one my heart. They saved my life. They've held me while I cried and fought for my honor even when I told them not to. They are the most brilliant people I have ever met, and I am proud to call Fred and George Weasley my friends.


	2. Well Deserved Breaks and Sickly Feelings

A strong pair of arms wrapped around my waist and lifted me into the air. Even though I knew I was perfectly safe, I could not stop the scream that escaped my lips or prevent my legs from kicking out.

"Easy!" Fred urged as he hopped out of the carriage in front of me, meaning that George was the one holding me. "You've been running around all day, making sure everyone has all their things to get here…"

"…So we wanted you to get off your feet for a while!" George explained, his voice muffled by my hair. Knowing that the twins had planned this made me feel even less safe, so I kicked out again. Angie found this hysterical and laughed at my pain as she took Fred's outstretched hand to climb out of the carriage.

"You deserve the break!" Fred agreed. I yelped as George hopped from the carriage to the ground with me still wrapped in his arms, and I made a mental note to make all three of my friends pay for this later.

"Put me down, George," I insisted, twisting in his arms. I shot a pleading look at Katie Bell and Alicia Spinnet, but neither seemed to have any intention of helping me and getting caught in the crossfire.

"Not a chance, luv." I could hear the grin in his voice, and knew I wasn't about to win this. "Think of this as a gift!"

"A thank-you," Fred agreed, leading the way to Hogwarts. We joined the rest of the students in a large mob towards the Great Hall, no one even looking twice at the fact that I was being carried against my will. Our odd behavior was just accepted by our fellow students now. We'd been at it for 6 years, why would anyone be amazed that we hadn't sobered up for year 7?

"If it weren't for you, Ron would have forgotten his dress robes…"

"…Ginny would have missed the train, too busy battin' her eyes at that bloke…"

"…And good ol' Harry would've overslept and missed the whole day," George finished. "Just relax and enjoy this."

"I was just afraid we'd miss the train." That scenario haunted my nightmares.

"And we didn't!" George smiled.

"You're carrying me like I'm an awkwardly sized package. You couldn't at least throw me over your shoulder?" I grumbled. Fred turned around and shared a look with his brother, brow raised and eyes gleaming. Then, he beamed at me. Shit.

"Brilliant idea!" George exclaimed. I barely had time to protest before he stopped moving and muttered, "Hold on, luv." And trust me, I did. When he lightly tossed me in the air with just enough twist to rotate me halfway around, I squealed and dug my fingers tightly into his arm. "Ow," he whined before doing it again. With me facing him, he hoisted me easily up so my stomach rested comfortably on his shoulder, my butt on display for anyone in front of us to stare at if they felt like turning around. I nodded a greeting to the second year Hufflepuff girls walking behind us, both staring at this scene with wide eyes. With a sigh, I rested my chin in my hand. I'd lost.

"How's it going back there, Mel?" Angie tossed back at me as we entered the castle. I threw a crude gesture at her, which made my three friends laugh. "Charming as always, I see."

"I hate you," I yelled without turning my head, earning more looks from the Hufflepuffs. I smiled sweetly at them and let my face freeze like that until they became too uncomfortable with the strange girl in front of them and scuttled off into the crowd.

"I had nothing to do with this!" she insisted. I knew she spoke the truth, but I still sent another gesture her way, just let them all know exactly how displeased I was.

When we entered the Great Hall, George slid me back onto the ground and dutifully took the smack to the stomach that I delivered. My violence didn't faze him anymore, but the strange faces of the Great Hall did. "New teacher?" he frowned. "What do you suppose she'll be doing?"

"Clearly, she'll be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts as well as heading Hogwarts's newest house. They're going to re-sort everybody to accommodate the changes, see. I think you'll find that you're not actually a Gryffindor, George, but that you belong in Dunderhead, the house of idiots and scruffs. Their colors are black and blue, and no one knows what exactly their symbol is because it's lost all its hair in an accidental explosion."

George grinned at me. "At least we'll finally be in the same house, love."

He always knew what to say to shut my mouth. Always had to win our verbal spars. It was rare that I got the edge on Fred, but it was impossible for me to shut down George. Not that I minded losing a battle of wits to them, but I did wish that I could come up with that last, game-ending comment just once.

Alas, today was not that day, so I left my three friends to sit down at the Ravenclaw table for the opening festivities. My Ravenclaw friends were notably less exciting than the group I had just departed, but I was still happy returning to Roger Davies explaining to Cho Chang and me all about his grand plans for the Quidditch team as the first years got sorted. As interested as I was in his dreams of finding the perfect new beater to replace Duncan, I knew Roger well enough to know I would hear this story another five times before try-outs were held. He'd also tell me about twelve different strategies he had for me to improve as a Keeper, to which I would smile and nod my head and look like I was listening very intently all while thinking that he needed to shove off and teach his fellow Chasers better strategies to score before he could tell me anything about doing my own bloody job. My attention drifted to the next table, where the Hufflepuffs chattered away happily. This time last year, a handsome, smiling young man met my gaze and offered me a boyish grin and excited wave. He had always been happy to see me ever since we'd met in second year transfiguration, and his excitement had always brightened my days.

But Cedric Diggory wasn't there anymore.

Unable to look at where he should have been, I spun in my seat to perform the annual ritual of making faces at Fred and George as Dumbledore made the traditional start of term announcements. Any year now, McGonagall was going to snap and switch the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables so I was not right next to Gryffindor anymore. It had not happened this year, though, and I was free to sit with my back against the table to look at my friends.

"Seriously," Katie spun around to face me, prompting George, Fred, Angie, Alicia, and Lee Jordan all to do the same, much to McGonagall's dismay, "how've you been doing, Mel? I barely heard from you all summer."

I hesitated and looked to Angie for help. Normally, I wrote letters to my friends nonstop over the summer, but I'd purposely ignored them all after last year. Angie was the only one I'd had any contact with, and that was only because it was pretty hard to ignore my next door neighbor. After a week of being ignored, she apparated into my room and demanded I talk to her.

"I told you," Angie rolled her eyes as if she was repeating herself for the umpteenth time. "She was sick through most of it. And you know how her mum gets."

I glared at the girl that was nearly my sister. That was the best she could come up with? Really? "Yeah," I grumbled. "You know my mum." I wasn't about to pretend I'd been sick for three months, but I could hardly pretend that my mother had become less neurotic this summer.

"You couldn't write when you weren't puking? I was worried about you," Alicia continued.

"Oh, lay off her," George rolled his eyes.

"I notice you're not at all worried that _we_ didn't write to you," Fred added.

"That's because it's a small blessing not to worry about your poor owl dying every time I get a letter from you. Or fearing that you've sent me something that might explode," Katie snapped.

Our conversation halted as Dumbledore began making his typical start-of-term announcements, and I was thankful for the timing. Fred's words made me realize that I hadn't, in fact, received any letters from the twins, and their letters were what I had most dreaded. I'd spent my entire summer trying to shut myself off from everybody because I didn't want to talk about the events of last year, and I knew that if the twins wrote to me, they'd somehow pry it all out. But no such letter came.

"Thank you, Fred," I muttered. "Now, pay attention, Dumbeldore's talking."

"…House quidditch try-outs will take place on the-"

"Hem-hem."

Angie's eyebrows shot straight up to the ceiling. My jaw dropped. Roger threw his fist into his mouth to hide the laugh-squeal that nearly came out. Cho hit Roger and wrinkled her nose in confused disgust. Fred and George shared a look that only they understood the meaning of. Katie's and Alicia's eyes grew as wide as saucers. No one interrupted Dumbledore. What on earth was Professor Umbridge doing? And, more excitingly, what was Dumbledore going to do in return? It was a severe let-down that he merely watched her as she picked up her pink bag and walked to the front of the staff table to address us.

"Thank you, headmaster, for those kind words of welcome."

I felt like gagging. "Roger," I hissed, keeping my voice as soft as possible. The Great Hall had fallen deathly silent. "I'm going to be sick." I was, too. Something about that woman made me feel ill. I just wished I knew why. Roger and Cho each took one of my hands to steady me, and while their warmth did absolutely nothing to settle my stomach, it worked wonders to steady my mind.

"…I'm sure we're all going to be very good friends."

"That's likely," Fred and George muttered darkly.

"…The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of a vital importance." Cho rolled her eyes. The last thing any of us wanted to hear was the party line. She froze, though, when Umbridge's eyes scanned the Great Hall under the guise of a smile, as if she could just feel the dissent at our table. I wished she would stop smiling; we all bloody knew she wasn't happy. "Although each headmaster has brought something new to this... historic school," she turned her sickly sweet smile on Dumbledore, "progress for the sake of progress must be discouraged." She turned back to us. "Let us preserve what must be preserved, perfect what can be perfected and prune practices that ought to be... prohibited!"

She smiled at the students of the Great Hall, and we all stared dumbly back at her. What the hell just happened? Roger let go of my hand, but Cho held on; I think she was just as unnerved as I was and felt better knowing there was someone else there. Maybe she sensed, too, that there was more to this woman than a poor wardrobe choice and rude timing. Something a bit more sinister.

"Thank you, Professor Umbridge," Dumbledore spoke slowly, watching as she retreated to her seat. "That was really most illuminating."

"What a piece of work," Angie spat. "What the hell was she doing interrupting Dumbledore?"

"Why do we always get batty teachers?" Katie pouted.

Fred turned to me, looked at my death-grip on Cho's hand, and reached for my forehead to check my temperature. "You alright?" George's head snapped around, too, at the concern in his brother's voice.

"Y-yeah," I nodded, and Cho let go of my hand quickly. "I'm fine. I just don't like her. Something about her is wrong."

"Well, you've got that right. Why would he hire someone like her?" Fred frowned as Dumbledore continued with his announcements.

"I don't think he did," Angie muttered, and I had to agree.

"Something bigger is happening here."

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><p><strong>Of course, the stuff you recognize belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just letting my imagination run wild. Thanks for having enough interest to stick around for chapter two. Please give me feedback. Good, bad...ugly, I want it all! If you think Mel feels too Mary-Sue at any point, let me know! Don't think I'm portraying a cannon character accurately or got a cannon event wrong, let me know! I really love feedback, especially since this is my first HP ff. <strong>

**I like to write a chapter or so ahead so I can update fairly regularly, which I try to do at least once a week. The next post is:** _** The Best Teacher in Hogwarts**_


	3. The Best Teacher in Hogwarts

"Professor Snaaaaaaaaaaaape!"

Titters and giggles rippled around me as I strode proudly into the dungeon classroom, late as always for potions. I dropped my bag on Roger's table but did not bother to sit down like all of the other students. Instead, before breezing to the front of the room, I waved to the desk across from us, where Angie and one of her Gryffindor friends were both biting their sleeves to keep from laughing loudly enough for Snape to hear.

Not that Severus Snape particularly cared that his entire seventh year potions class was hardly cowering in fear at the moment. He had learned long ago that no class with me in it would be business as usual, but he still held onto hope. He envisioned my fellow Ravenclaws marveling at the power he held and desiring to be as cunning and clever as him one day. Wishful thinking, of course, but sometimes it was good to dream.

It was common for students to have favorite classes and favorite professors, but nobody liked potions, and certainly nobody liked Professor Snape. That was what he tried for, at least. But, from day one, I made it clear that I was having none of his plan. Hogwarts was the beginning of my own life, a life away from my mother's fears and nightmares. The way I saw it, the best way to break cleanly from her influence was to face down the scariest teacher in the school and stand my ground. If Snape couldn't get to me, no one could, I figured. My plan hadn't worked nearly as well as I thought, as any encounter with a spider would prove, but I never once cowered in his classroom. See, I was most excited about learning how to make potions, and it came naturally to me. I might never be able to turn a button into a mouse or manage to pick a constellation out of the billions of stars in the sky, but I could make one hell of a potion. Even Severus Snape had to admit that. Just…never out loud.

When Fred and George, who grudgingly sat in front of Angie and Lee because they'd managed to snag a table in the very back of the room, arrived late and lost house points the very first day of our first year, I immediately called George a dunderhead and told them to find a map of the school so they could get to class on time. The boys thought nothing of it, of course, and George told me I looked like a scruff and should be quiet, but my outburst had Snape completely thrown. Students didn't speak in his class. The most he ever got was a stammered half-word when he berated their pathetic excuses for potion making. The points he docked from Ravenclaw that day only encouraged me. I would make this man like me. He might never admit it, but I would win him over.

He could never put me down, either. Every student to ever sit in his classroom had a button, one that turned even the most confident Quidditch star into a bumbling idiot beneath his icy gaze. Not me. When he called me a bumbling buffoon for slicing my wolfsbane when I should have crushed it, I laughed, called myself a dunderhead (a name I normally reserved for George's stupidity), and produced a new sprig to try again. When he announced to a class of half-Ravenclaw, half-Slytherin my second year that my potion was not golden brown but rather a rather brilliant pink because I forgot the simple addition of two cloves minced garlic, I announced that I never could have corrected the mistake without his patience and guidance and thanked him for being such a brilliant teacher. My goal was for him to realize what it was like to be the one stammering with nothing to say, and I'm fairly certain I succeeded at least once. I give him credit though. He always hid it well.

So, when I turned up for my seventh year of Potions, Snape squeezed his eyes shut as if praying this was the last day of classes so I would be gone again for three blissful months. When he opened his eyes to see me standing before him with my expectant, wide-eyed stare, overjoyed grin, and outstretched arms, his hope officially died for the school year.

"It's so good to be back!" I squealed, throwing my arms around him. He let out a light 'oof' at the impact and staggered back a step. Once he regained his composure, he pried one arm free of my bear hug and used it to push me off of him.

"Five points from Ravenclaw."

"What for?" I pouted, but I could tell by his scowl that he saw the mischievous glint in my eye. I knew exactly how much I annoyed him, and he knew that it was my goal to drive him insane.

"For being late. And for touching me. Sit down, Miss Harper."

I stuck my bottom lip out, turned on my heel, offered a quick wink to Angie, who smiled more broadly to show that she approved of my performance, and flounced back to my seat, my spiraling black curls bouncing with every step. After a few deep breaths to regain his menace, Snape attempted to control his class again, but I knew that hug had thrown him off his game. Today's battle was tipped in my favor.

"This…" he started gravely, sweeping the room with his most paralyzing glare, "is going to be your most grueling school year yet." To seal the deal, I decided to ask the question I had spent all summer coming up with. I shot my hand up into the air, and his eyes flicked to me briefly. He wasn't going to call on me, though, not about to give me the satisfaction. "I pride myself in knowing that I produce only the strongest, most skilled," I waved my hand as if I thought he couldn't see me, "witches and wizards in potion making, and this year will be no different. Do not think that-"

"Professor-"

"-because you had barely passing grades with your substandard performances in the past, that_, what on earth could you possibly need to ask me right now, Miss Harper_?" he finally broke, ignoring the tittering that followed his grunted question.

"Are we going to learn how to stopper death this year?"

"…Excuse me?" He fixed me with his most belittling stare, but I was too good at looking innocent for him to reasonably dock points for asking imbecilic questions. I knew I had him with this one. As long as I played off of his responses right, I would set the perfect tone for this year.

"Are we going to learn to stopper death? Our first class, you said that potions could…"

"Yes, Miss Harper, I know what I said. I just said it earlier today to a group of first years that were far more capable of sitting through a class silently than you will ever be."

"That's all well and good," I brushed the remark off without letting that innocent look wipe off of my face. "But will we learn to stopper death this year?"

"Miss Harper, I hardly doubt you could produce a potion that could stopper your _mouth_."

The laughter of my classmates, especially the doubled-over glee of the Angie and Lee, didn't faze me in the slightest. If he insulted me, it meant I had him on the run. "Well, if you won't teach us the death thing, could we try _that_ one?"

Snape squeezed his eyes shut and pursed his lips. Game over. He had no clever retort, no belittling comment, not even a stare meant to make me feel smaller than a baby blast-ended skrewt.

"Five points from Ravenclaw."

Totally worth it. You'd think he would have learned by then that I had an answer for everything, right down to turning his quip about how ungodly annoying I am into part of my merry joke about his daunting beginning-of-the-year speech. All of my jokes were meant to show him that he didn't scare me. I knew since my first opening feast that Severus Snape was not a man to be feared. It wasn't the way he lightly smirked at how Fred, George, and I all ended up being the last ones singing the Hogwarts song, or how he let McGonagall take her seat before he sat down. It was something else entirely.

_ The Sorting Hat took its sweet time deciding where I belonged, debating between three houses in turn. It ruled out Gryffindor immediately despite my protests; no matter how badly a student wanted to be in a house, it appeared that the hat would only be so appeasing. There were some things that apparently could not be overlooked, and I certainly did not have the star qualities of a Gryffindor. Hufflepuff was next to go; the hat told me I was just a bit too proud of myself for their lot. With only Ravenclaw and Slytherin left, I told it that I'd throw it to the ground and jump on it until they forcibly removed me if it put me in that house. The Hat found that amusing and agreed that my wit and mind overpowered my cunning and announced my home in Ravenclaw. I sulked my way to the table and took my seat with a forlorn look at Fred and George. Of course I had been sorted somewhere else. It was mildly comforting that I was not in Slytherin but, really, only mildly. I wanted to be with my new friends. _

_ When Angelina was sorted into Gryffindor, too, with the hat barely even touching her head, I decided that Hogwarts and all those associated with it were out to get me. That's why my mother fretted over letting me attend. Or at least part of the reason._

_ "Can you believe this?" she hissed at me, carefully sitting in the seat directly behind me. I shifted on my bench so I was sitting on my leg. It looked like I was intently watching the Sorting and had turned to face it, but when Angie shifted to match me, it was worlds easier for us to talk without being noticed. "How are we not in the same house?"_

_ "Clearly, they hate me," I muttered back. She grinned at that._

_ "Cheerful as ever." She stopped when the room fell silent over a particularly long decision for a boy with dreadlocks whose name I'd missed. When the hat announced, "Gryffindor!", he pumped his fists in the air and charged towards the table, and Angie continued. "Look at all the teachers. What an unpleasant lot."_

_ "I like the one with the funny glasses and vacant stare." I would later know her as Sybil Trelawney, the most perplexing teacher I ever studied under._

_ "Look at the hair on that one," Angie giggled, motioning with her head towards a hook-nosed teacher at the far end of the table. He clapped slowly for the newest member of Slytherin, his cold eyes following the young, pale girl as she scurried to her table. "Bet he's a real piece of work."_

_ "That's Severus Snape," Fred supplied. "He's the potions master."_

_ "Heard it's his goal to make someone cry at least once a month," George added._

_ "He only likes the Slytherins, which makes sense since he used to follow You-Know-Who."_

_ "You don't know that for sure," Angie frowned._

_ "Everyone knows that," Fred and George supplied in unison._

_ I studied this strange, greasy-haired, hook-nosed man with the permanent scowl and the always-scanning eyes. As if he felt my gaze, his eyes flicked towards me, and as soon as our gazes locked, I Knew. The feeling washed over me like an ice-cold wave, and I gasped from the unusual strength of a feeling that was normally no peskier than an itch or a bit of thirst._

_ Angie dropped our act and turned to face me, which caught the boys' attention. "What's wrong?" I shook my head, but didn't answer her as I kept my focus on this strange man. "Mel, what happened?"_

_ "Nothing," I shook my head. Angie growled, held onto her bench for balance, lunged at me, and landed a solid punch on my shoulder that genuinely hurt enough for me to not even find it amusing that she nearly fell face-first from trying to cover the distance between us. "Ow!"_

_ "Stop lying."_

_ "I'm not lying. It was…" I glanced at the twins, who were staring at us, and carefully phrased my response, "y'know, the usual. Just stronger than normal. It surprised me." _

_ Angie eyed me carefully but accepted this enough to turn back to the Sorting, which was nearing a close. "What brilliant insight have you got, then?"_

_ "Eh," I shrugged, noting the not-so-subtle way the twins were looking between the two of us, "not much. I just don't think he's as bad as everyone here lets on."_

_ "What're you on about?" Fred laughed at me. "Snape's practically You-Know-Who in teacher form. Minus, y'know, the killing bit."_

_ "And the torture."_

_ "And the hordes of followers."_

_ "And the hygiene."_

_ "Trust me," I shook my head, "he's not as bad as he seems."_

_ "No, I'm pretty positive he has terrible hygiene," Fred insisted. I shot him a glare._

_ "If she says he's not evil, he's not evil," Angie defended me as the Hufflepuff table erupted with applause. "She knows things."_

_ "Clearly not that much. That man is the worst teacher in this school," Fred insisted._

_ "Fred." It was my turn to stop pretending I was paying attention as I turned to face their table. "I have this kind of sixth sense. I Know things that I shouldn't. Nothing solid that I can explain, but I get these feelings that I can't explain sometimes. I just know that they're true."_

_ "Like premonitions?" he frowned._

_ "Yeah, sort of. Sometimes, I wake up in the morning with the overwhelming sense that my mum's going to get hurt that day. I won't tell her, she'll go to work, she'll come home, and she'll tell me this fantastic tale about how she cut herself so badly she nearly couldn't raise her wand to heal herself. I don't know what triggers it, but I know when I'm right."_

_ "It is," Angie supplied. "When we were six, she told me I was special and I was not going to be an accountant like my father. Two years later, I hit my head against the fireplace and when they wiped the blood away, there wasn't a mark on me. If she tells you she has a Feeling, you believe her." _

_ It should have scared them. I was a freak, something that I never let myself forget. I told myself to embrace it, to make it as much a part of me as my tendency to stare at people awkwardly and insult freely. It was always in the back of my mind, though, that I wasn't quite normal, and I was reminded every time I had one of my moments of overwhelming certainly._

_ Then again, I learned that day to never think the Weasley twins would react quite like everyone else. Instead of barraging me with questions or shrinking away from me, they broke into huge grins._

_ "This could come in handy," Fred beamed. George nodded. "Anything else you happen to Know? Like if McGonagall is fond of Fillibuster Fireworks?"_

_ I laughed at them, shook my head, and turned to listen to Dumbledore, because I didn't need some gift to know I could never lie to these boys, and acting like there was nothing else was certainly a lie. It was the first lie I ever told them, and I wish I could say it was the biggest. What I actually Knew was something I couldn't quite understand at the time, something that wouldn't happen for another 8 years on the day our world would change forever. All I knew that day in the Great Hall was that I should not share Knowledge about the honorable death of Severus Snape. It would do no good to tell them, anyway. I had learned long before that I could not change what I Knew._

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><p><strong>Thanks so much for the review, Ella Unlimited. Please, everyone, if you think I've screwed something up or can improve something or am doing a good job or whatever, let me know! I really like criticism and hearing what people have to say about my writing. These first few chapters are really going to be about introducing Mel's character, since we all know about the cannons but not so much about her. Plus, since I think it's unrealistic to assume everyone is automatically in the same house, I don't want her only ever hanging around with the Gryffindors. This is as much her story as it is theirs. But, if you start getting tired of reading about Cho Change and the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, let me know!<strong>

**Next chapter, when I get it finished, is: **_**Family Ties**_


	4. Family Ties

Mrs. Johnson never liked my mother. When Angelina and I would play together as children and our mothers would get to talking, it was clear to even to the self-absorbed minds we had at the age of 6 that they didn't get along like other mothers did.

Other mothers would sit on the porch swing with cups of tea, and they would tell stories and laugh and gossip and whisper excitedly. They would barely remember to keep an eye on their children until just seconds before someone started bleeding and screaming. The injured youth would get patched up and sent on their merry way, and the mothers would sit back down to continue the story about that scandalously ugly dress the neighbor wore two weeks prior.

Our mothers stood with their arms crossed facing us, sniffing and exchanging short sentences. They would nod curtly and shrug and roll their eyes. If Angie got hurt, her mother pulled her onto the porch, magically fixed her up, and sent her back out. The play date ended if I got hurt, which was nearly a guarantee because I had a charming attraction to the ground as a child that I thankfully grew out of somewhere around the time I started at Hogwarts. My mother would mutter about how she knew this would happen, what a bad idea "this sort of thing" was, and would drag me, still crying and scraped and bleeding, to fix up in the quiet of our living room where she could tell me about exactly how foolish I had been to go chasing after Angie like I had, or to jump off that tree stump, or to crawl under that shrub.

Mr. Johnson never spoke to my mother.

I imagine things would have been different if my father was alive. During the hours I would spend confined indoors because the beautifully sunny days were apparently perfect hunting conditions for some beast or another, I would dig through boxes tucked away in the attack and find pictures of him that I studied for hours. Pictures of him and my mother as young teenagers laughing and hugging and proudly holding up their prefect badges and pretending to duel. Pictures of them slightly older rocking an infant me and standing proudly in front of their new house (which my mother and I had long since moved from) and working in the garden with smears of dirt across their faces from the trowel battle they'd had moments earlier. I don't imagine that much frightened him. Maybe my mother did. She frightens a lot of people.

My mother was a proud Hufflepuff that stoically filled my head with the virtues of truth and honesty and fairness. My father had been a Slytherin. I imagine that he'd been one of the good ones, one of the cunning, clever, brilliant ones. Not a Draco Malfoy. More of a Peeves. When faced with the Sorting Hat, I didn't want to be a Slytherin because the values I believed my father had were long since forgotten in that house, and I didn't particularly want to be a Hufflepuff after watching Fred and George get sorted into Gryffindor. I wanted the house of bravery and courage.

But I never was very brave or courageous. Even in my last year at Hogwarts, I needed to sleep with a light nearby. Just a small one. Just to know there was still something there. And that was after doing a lot of growing up. My father was killed when I was four years old, and my mother spent every waking minute telling me how I could trip up the stairs, break my neck, and die, or be killed by something else equally as trivial (and typically much more horrific). She did it to keep me safe, of that I never doubted, but it succeeded in two things. One, it made me want to try new things to show her that I wasn't, for example, so stupid that I would manage to permanently disfigure myself trying to cook pasta. Two, it made me absolutely terrified of everything, right down to magic itself.

After all, magic had killed my father. I couldn't help but think as I stood there waiting to get sorted that any one of my fellow first years, or any of the countless students in the Great Hall with me, could be the next You-Know-Who. Maybe they'd be even worse. Who would be the next child to grow up without a father, and who would cause it?

That was what amazed me so much when I first met the Weasleys. They had lived through that horribly dark time in our history, yet it didn't seem to bother Molly Weasley nearly enough that her twin boys liked to make things explode. My mother never would have allowed that. That's why I never told her anything about what I did or who I spent my time with at school. That's why I could never afford to get in trouble. But Fred and George? Well, their mother would fuss and assign chores and yell and send howlers and be downright miserable to them, but at the end of the day, she still loved them and asked them how their days were over slices of freshly baked pie as the family ate their meal together at a long and over-stuffed table. I never had that. I'd never _wanted_ that until I spent my first weekend at the Burrow. After that, I couldn't dream of anything else. I wanted that family. Children running amuck during the day with my leash just tight enough that I could reel them in, wiping dirt off of noses and kissing away tears and laughing at petty squabbles. I wanted that. All of it.

I often wondered if Fred and George knew how lucky they had it.

When I was 12 or 13, my mother asked me why I spent so much time out of the house. I shrugged and mumbled as girls that age are apt to do, and she let it go. I didn't want to tell her the truth. The truth that Angelina's strange family of half-muggle influence, half-wizard felt more real to me than we did. That spending time with my best friend made me feel free, but spending time with my mother, my only living flesh and blood, made me feel trapped, like I couldn't breathe. How do you tell your mother that?

So, I didn't. I brushed her off. And that night, I dreamed of the family I so desperately wanted.

FGFGFGFGFG

"Melbecka? 'Scuse me. Melbecka?"

The Gryffindor common room was fairly busy for a Wednesday evening. Since it was only the first week of term, students had no particular reason to be anywhere else. There were no emergency library trips, no Quidditch practices, not even a detention for Fred and George yet. I was curled on a prized seat by the open window next to Fred with my book of the year open on my lap. For the first page, I'd already been interrupted by Fred asking if I thought eating a dungbomb would be "hospital wing" dangerous or just "rather smelly farts" dangerous, Angelina yelling at me for wearing a pair of her shoes that I swear I've had in my possession for years, George performing a national inquiry over what kind of snack I wanted him to snag from the kitchen, and now Colin Creevey. It appeared my attempt to read _The Golden Cauldron _was going to fail miserably, as had _Dancing with Giants,_ _The Boggart in the Closet, Voyages with Vampires, The Animagi of County Antrum, Rome and Juliet, _and _Quidditch Through the Ages_ before. Just once, I wanted to sit down for a nice reading session and not be interrupted every five words.

Fred gave a sly grin as he continued to study the dungbomb in his hand. I was extremely wary of that situation, as well, knowing something was bound to go terribly wrong any moment now. He knew I was endlessly annoyed by the small boy trying to get my attention, which I refused to give, and took particular pleasure in my pain.

"Mel? Melbecka Harper? 'Scuse me. Hello?"

When Colin forced his face down to the level of my book so I was forced to look at him, the motion made me jump, and Fred snorted so hard that he choked himself. After a nasty look at my so-called friend, I forced a smile at the third-year Gryffindor.

"What can I do for you, Colin?" I tried to sound pleasant, but Fred started coughing harder. Perhaps I was laying it on a bit thick.

"You know how you made that potion for me two years ago? I was wondering if you could make me some more."

A potion that I made two years ago? That was really all he was going to give me. Apparently, my memory skills were not as widely discussed amongst my fellow students as my fondness for experimenting with my cauldron. "Sorry, Colin, erm, think you could be more specific?"

"The picture one." He shook his camera in my face for extra emphasis. "So that when I develop them for my dad so he can see all the things we do here, they move. It's so much more wonderful if they move for him, but I've run all out of potion, and I was really hoping you could make some more from me. I've heard you're awfully good at it, and the last batch you made me worked so well. But I spilled some so I've run out now and really need more so I can develop my first lot and send them home for me." He'd taken a 'first lot' of pictures already? It was Wednesday of our first week! Exactly how many pictures did this boy take. "So if you could do that for me, it would be just so wonderful! I'm so excited about taking Care of Magical Creatures this year and I want my dad to see everything that happens, you know? It's going to be brilliant, isn't it? I wonder if there'll be dragons!"

"Alright, Colin," I held my hand up quickly so he would finally stop talking. "First of all, I wouldn't get excited about dragons. They're dangerous and would love nothing more than to burn you to a crisp and eat you." He froze at that and fixed me with wide, horrified eyes. Fred laughed outright at that.

"Don't listen to her, mate. She's just angry."

"Am not," I insisted. I closed my book, not bothering with the marker since I was only on the first paragraph, and hit him in the arm. The blow surprised him for some reason and he nearly dropped the dungbomb but thankfully came up with it firmly in his hands. "But, really, Colin, I'm a bit busy now with classes starting again, and I just don't have time to brew anything for you. Just go ask Snape. I bet he's got some, or he'll be able to make some for you now while classwork is still light."

Fred snorted, probably thinking about how happy he was to be free of that man's class forever. Colin, however, fixed me with that terrified gaze again. "Y-you mean, j-just _ask_ him? As in, _t-t-talk_ to him?"

And I remembered just how different I was. Other students did not breeze into Snape's office and ask to use various ingredients or get his opinion on the best way to stir concoctions that Hogwarts classes didn't even cover. To me, asking Snape for a potion was as natural as asking Madam Pomfrey to heal a cut, although Madam Pomfrey would probably help without twenty minutes of belittling banter. To Colin Creevey, it was the equivalent of sending him out climb Kilimanjaro with only a pair of trainers, a bottle of water, and a pat on the back.

"I'll ask for you, Colin, and let you know what he says." Before Colin could spend the next five minutes thanking me profusely, I added, "Now go run along and grab a snack cake from the kitchens before we're not allowed out anymore, eh? You look hungry."

He announced that, in fact, he was, and went scurrying off. Fred immediately burst out laughing. "Telling him to talk to Snape? For someone who's afraid of the dark, why are you always so surprised that people are terrified of that man?"

"I am _not _afraid of the dark." Half true. The dark isn't scary. The things that hide in the dark, the evil things that wait patiently for you to feel comfortable enough that they can kill you from the comfort of the shadows without any struggle are what I always found horrifying.

"And I'll be headmaster one day. Why not just tell Colin to tattoo 'Tell me how worthless I am' on his forehead?"

"Because I wasn't talking to you," I countered.

"That hurts me. I do have feelings, you know." I raised my eyebrows at him. "Well, alright, not many, but I'm sure they're in there somewhere. Now, really, if someone were to swallow one of these," he motioned with the dungbomb, "do you think they'd die? Because I was going to test it myself, but I could wait until George gets back…"

* * *

><p><strong>I only wish I was half as brilliant as J.K. Rowling. Next chapter: <strong>_**Meeting Umbridge**_


	5. Meeting Umbridge

I couldn't stop the gagging noise that came out of my throat when I saw the pink robes of Professor Umbridge. She looked up from her desk with a plastered smile to see where the noise came from, so I ducked my head and slipped into my seat next to Roger as innocently as possible. I was nearly late, as usual, and Roger gave me a look. He was very much a Ravenclaw on the academic level and didn't like how I calmly flirted with disaster on a classly basis.

"Right," I grunted, fishing through my bag for my book. "What'd'you make of her?"

"She wears pink," Roger made a face. "How bad can you be if you wear pink?"

I snorted as I dropped my book onto our desk. "It's not exactly You-Know-Who's color, is it?" Roger snorted, too.

I pulled out my wand and dropped my bag to the floor. Roger and I leaned back in our seats, lifting the front legs off the ground. I twirled my wand between my fingers and watched Umbridge patiently. She offered me a blatantly fake smile, checked the time, and let out a small giggle that I immediately hated. I hated giggling. I hated when Cho giggled. I hated when Katie and Alicia giggled. I even hated when _I _giggled. This pink little woman should not start off by giggling. Especially not at me.

"Wands away, dearies. There will be no need for those today."

I made a face at Roger. Wands away? What defensive spells were we going to learn that didn't involve our wands? I was one of the last to put my wands in my bag, giving Umbridge a hard stare as I did so. I didn't like this anymore than the murmuring Hufflepuffs did.

"So, wait," I shot my hand in the air as I started talking. Umbridge looked as if she was about to reprimand me for not waiting to be called on, but I plowed over her, "we're not going to do actual spells?"

"Why on earth would you need to actually perform the spells? You will be learning in a safe, ministry-approved…"

Again, I shot my hand in the air at the same instance that I started talking. "So, what's the point? Theory is useless. You can teach a muggle all the theory in the world, but what sets us apart as witches and wizards is that we can actually _do_ things. If we're not going to actually learn the spells, what's the point of being at Hogwarts?"

Umbridge stared at me, the sickly smile still firmly plastered on her face. Roger hissed at me to either shut my face or keep my pace. I pretended he said the second solely because I wanted to keep going.

"Miss…" she glanced down at something on her desk, "Harper. Students will wait to be called on before speaking in my class."

I shot my hand up in the air and rolled my fingers impatiently on my desk. Umbridge raised her eyebrows so her smile took on a much more amused atmosphere. She nodded for me to continue.

"So, are you actually going to answer my question or just throw rules at me as a lame deflection?"

"Mel," Roger hissed. "Stop." I kicked him under the table, and winced through the pain when he kicked back even harder.

Umbridge stepped forward to hover dangerously over the front row of students, and I felt a bit bad for some of my dorm mates that had that pink blob shoved in their faces. I'd have to apologize for that later.

"What exactly do you think you would need to use these spells for, Miss Harper?" she asked, eyes glinting dangerously.

"Protecting ourselves from…" Roger kicked me under the table. Probably wise. Dropping _his_ name in a moment of anger in front of the entire class couldn't possibly go well for me. "…dark witches and wizards. Don't tell me they aren't out there. People have died."

Umbridge offered me a condescendingly sympathetic frown. "Your class at Hogwarts, specifically the students in this room, in your two houses, has experienced a…severe trauma. A trauma that no child should have to experience. A good boy, pure of heart, well-loved by his peers, skilled at magic, and a true representative of the qualities we look for in a young wizard lost his life long before his time. I know that the loss of a friend can be difficult, and in difficult times, it might seem that drastic measures would need to be taken. But, in these times, you must ask yourself this: Is this what my dear friend would want? Would he want me to become panicked and live a life of fear over an enemy that does not exist, or would he want me to mourn his loss, pick up the pieces, and continue living the life I am blessed to have? I understand that you all acutely feel the loss of Mr. Cedric-"

"Don't."

She froze, and every eye on the room turned to me. I hadn't meant to sound so cold and harsh when I interrupted her, but self-control had never been one of my strong suits. "Don't you _dare_ talk about him. You don't know one bloody thing about Cedric Diggory."

Roger grabbed my arm to keep me calm, but I only saw it as a challenge and fought him until I was standing. I felt the eyes of my fellow students on me, but I was too far removed from my own senses to fully take them in. I recognized the mixture of pity and understanding from the Ravenclaws. I saw the tears and the nods and the encouragement from the Hufflepuffs. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Roger drop his head into his hands and heard him pray that I not get suspended from Quidditch for this. Normally, all of that would have bolstered me onward. But, right then, none of it particularly mattered.

"You want to know what I feel about Cedric Diggory? I feel that one of my best friends is gone, and he's never coming back. He was _killed_ trying to win some bloody tournament, and it should have made everyone start preparing for what's to come. But instead, people are shaming his death by arguing over how it happened and denying the truth because they don't like how scary it is. He was a good friend, a loving boyfriend, and a _damn_ good wizard. Someone worth a lot more of my respect than you couldn't convince me that after what happened to him all we should do is sit around and _read_."

The smile had fallen from her face, and that scared me. What scared me more, though, was the anger coursing through me until I shook. I didn't get angry, and I found that I didn't much like the feeling. I shoved my book sloppily into my bag and slung it over my shoulder.

"I'll save you the trouble," I grunted. "I'll just go to the Headmaster now."

FGFGFGFG

Katie stopped in her tracks as she approached the Gryffindor table for lunch. Whenever Fred and George were laughing that hysterically, something dangerous had happened. I shot her an apologetic smile and motioned to a seat on the other side of Angie, figuring it was probably the safest seat for her. She took it cautiously, but Alicia sat across from me, next to Lee, with no apparent concern for her safety.

"Fred and George have been telling us about their latest invention," Angelina supplied bitterly. I had intended to fill my friends in on my DADA outburst over lunch, but Fred and George had shoved candy into our hands the second Angie and I sat down at the Gryffindor table and began telling us all about Skiving Snackboxes. My candy was tucked under my plate so they couldn't see that I had no intention of taking it with me to enjoy later, and Angie had thrown hers at Fred when she scolded him for not writing all summer because he was coming up with dangerous what-nots. When he'd explained that the candy was perfectly safe and they knew this because they'd tested it on themselves all summer, Angie had completely lost it and now refused to speak to either twin. I wasn't about to upset her more by talking about my latest adventure.

Fate, however, had other things in mind.

"Ooooh, Mel, I heard you were brilliant today," Katie beamed at me. Angie whirled around to glare at me, immediately knowing I'd done something horrendously stupid. Fred wiped his brow, thankful to have her wrath directed somewhere else.

"It's all the Ravenclaws were talking about in herbology," Alicia nodded. Being a year younger, it didn't surprise me that word travelled to them before Angie and the twins. The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs in my class told their house friends a year below, and word spread like wildfire to the other houses. Coming from a class like herbology, where there's much more free-reign for conversation, it only made sense that Katie and Alicia had heard.

Damn.

"_What_ were all the Ravenclaws talking about?" Angie asked in a carefully measured voice. When that girl gets mad, she bears a striking resemblance to the Yeti drawings in that blasted Lockhart book we had to read a few years back.

"Look, Angie, it's really nothing you should get…" I started to explain, but Roger chose that moment to take the empty seat next to Alicia, drop his elbows onto the table, and lean towards me. This was enough to get everyone's attention; Roger Davies never sat at the Gryffindor table, since he was a Ravenclaw, unless he really needed to tell me something, since being in a different house never slowed me down. Someone on the team was hurt. That essay I swore was due next week was due that afternoon. Or, you know, I completely lost my shit over Professor Umbridge in our first class of the year. For example.

"Did you really go to Dumbledore after you left?"

"DUMBLEDORE?" Angie exploded.

I held a hand up to stop her oncoming tirade. "Of course I went. I said I would, didn't I?"

Roger raised his eyebrows and nodded to show that he hadn't really doubted me. "What did he do?"

I shrugged. "Well, he took fifty points off."

"Fif…Merlin's sake, Mel, you already lost us 15 in Potions for antagonizing Snape!" Roger exclaimed.

"What?" Angie started again, but Fred clapped a hand over her mouth in a move that showed bravery I didn't know he had. She grabbed at his arm and tried to pull it away, but his other hand had a firm grasp on the back of her head, trapping her. Convinced of her defeat, she contented herself with letting out muffled protesting.

"Look, I'll get the points back," I snapped. "I still have Care of Magical Creatures and Charms today."

"Flitwick likes you, but not enough to get 65 points back," Roger shook his head.

"I said I have Care of Magical Creatures, too!"

Angie delivered a sharp blow to Fred's stomach that sent him reeling, freeing her face of his hands. "Melbecka Rose Harper, you explain yourself this bloody instant, or I will write your mum."

She had me, and she knew it. That was the ultimate threat, writing my mum. I sighed in defeat. "I sort of…freaked out on Umbridge a bit in class today."

"A bit?" Katie raised her eyebrows. "To hear the Ravenclaws talk, you nearly killed her."

"She nearly did," Roger confirmed. I shot him a look to shut him up. As the only witness to the scene, I needed him to either make me sound good or to shut the hell up.

"I was just tired of everyone telling us that You-Know-Who isn't back, y'know? Did you hear she doesn't even want to teach us spells? We're just going to spend class reading and learning theory."

"Says it's some kind of ministry program. Should give us everything we need to pass the NEWTS, and not one bloody dose more," Roger added bitterly. She must have said that after my grand exodus.

"So you decided to storm out of class? Honestly, what has gotten into you?" Angelina shook her head. "It's like you're on a mission to get detention."

"I will _not_ get detention. I haven't gotten one the last six years, and I'm not getting one now. That's why I went to Dumbledore; I knew if I told him why I got so upset, he'd let me off easy."

"Easy?" Obviously, Roger disagreed. "He took off 50 points!"

"Can't we all just get along?" Fred chirped. Angie glared at him, and he put his head down to remove himself from the conversation. It wasn't safe to get in the middle.

"Mel, help us out here," George tried, sounding like he was actually concerned for me instead of just angry. "What really upset you so much?"

I hated that he asked me that. When he asked me something, I had to tell him. My mother had firmly beaten into my head from a young age that lying by omission was just as hurtful as blatantly telling a falsehood, so I never could keep things from them. Not if they asked. My conscience was significantly more at ease with keeping secrets if they _didn't_ ask, though.

"She started talking about Cedric," I mumbled.

"It was bloody ridiculous," Roger added, much to my appreciation. "Like she has any right to talk about him to _his_ class of Hufflepuffs. To _any _Hufflepuffs. It's downright insensitive."

"Because she has no feelings!" I emphasized, hitting my hand against the table. "She's evil! And I wasn't about to sit in class with an evil woman. So, I let her know I thought she was out of line and went to Dumbledore."

"And lost 50 points," Roger grumbled.

I could tell by the looks on both George's and Angie's faces that they had more questions for me, but neither one pushed the matter in front of everyone. "What else did Dumbledore do?" Angie prompted.

"He…asked me not to test her. To stay below her realm of noticing, y'know? Like he wasn't sure exactly what she would do."

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading and reviewing! Your comments really do make my day; I love reading what you have to say (and I did not mean for that to rhyme, really…). <strong>

**Next chapter: **_**Trials**_


	6. Trials

The purplish liquid hissed as I added wormwood to it, which was not at all the reaction that I expected. That should have cooled it, not heated it. Clearly, my calculations were off. I frowned at my mortar and pestle, decided that the wormwood was already crushed and not worth saving anyway, and scraped the rest into my palm. I carefully stood up and positioned myself as far from the cauldron as possible while still being able to reach my hands over it.

"Oy!" The first-year boy, trying to write as largely as possible to meet his length requirement for a paper, snapped his head up. His eyes widened when he realized that he'd just spent the last hour sitting in the common room with an active cauldron. "You might want to clear out." He nodded vigorously. "The sooner the better." I like to think it was the sweet smile I flashed that prompted him to squash up the parchment, knock his ink over, leave the mess for someone else to clean up, and run up to the boys' dormitories. Then again, it might have been because I also edged myself away from the cauldron as I spoke.

"Geronimo," I sighed before releasing the wormwood. As the crushed bits fell towards my concoction, I jumped back and pulled my wand to protect from the inevitable explosion of boiling liquid.

When the potion let out another hiss, no louder than the last one, I frowned again and looked around the common room for someone, anyone, to explain what was going on. Carefully, I edged back up to my cauldron and peered over the edge. The potion was still a shade somewhere between purple and pink, it was not bubbling from reaching a boil, and no steam was rising from it. Now curious, I sat back down on the window seat, reached into my small chest of plants, and pulled out my last sprig of wormwood. I would have to either buy more on the first trip to Hogsmeade or steal the school's supply from the student closet of potion ingredients and let Snape worry about it. Or I could not test my theory. Clearly that option was out, and I always preferred to save money, so I threw the final sprig in my mortar, crushed it, and dumped every last bit into the potion. It let out a long, loud hiss from such a quantity, but there was no boiling over or mass explosion.

Excellent.

Upping my stupidity, purely for the sake of curiosity, I reached out my hand over the cauldron but felt no warmth rising. I smiled to myself as two people sank onto the window seat next to me.

"What're you up to?" Roger Davies, my Quidditch captain and best in-house friend, questioned. Cho Chang leaned forward to look curiously into my cauldron.

"Potion making," I answered simply, snapping a porcupine quill in half with my hand and dumping it in. A large bubble formed and popped on the surface, but a quick check showed that it was not from heat.

"What are you making?" Cho asked. I shrugged.

"Haven't the foggiest."

My friends immediately slid as far away from me as the curved window seat would allow, which was at least a meter on either side. Roger eyed me with a mixture of horror and disgust. "You're just _throwing_ ingredients into the cauldron?"

"I'm not _throwing_ them!" I insisted. This was a good idea, though. If I could get more distance between me and the potion with some of the larger ingredients, that would be safer. "I need a rotten egg."

"That's disgusting," Cho wrinkled her nose. "Why?"

I have to give her credit for at least being curious. Not many people can be interested in why someone needs smelly, dangerous food. If I had an answer, I would have been more than eager to share.

"More importantly," Roger interrupted, sliding closer to me so he could grab my wrist before I added a full sprig of knotgrass to the potion, "why are you just throwing things in a pot instead of following a recipe like sane people?"

I sighed and dropped the sprig harmlessly to the side so he would free me. "I was making a swelling potion, but I accidentally added beetle eyes instead of puffer-fish eyes, and the whole thing turned bright blue. And since it didn't explode, I thought I'd experiment a bit."

"Why were you making a swelling potion?" Cho asked, lunging to grab my other arm so I didn't put in another porcupine quill.

"To make things swell. Obviously." Honestly, no one understood me in that school.

"Alright, alright," Roger waved his hands in front of his face to show that he was done with the entire conversation, "putting aside your potentially life-threatening stupidity for a moment," he grabbed my fist before I could fling a beetle eye at him, "I just came from a meeting with Flitwick about our Quidditch schedule, and instead of telling you later at dinner, I thought you two should hear the news in private." Now he had my attention. I let my arm relax and, the second he released my fist, tossed the beetle eye into the potion. He gave me a look but let it slide so we could focus on the most important part of our friendship. "The cup's back on this year. They only took it off last year because of the triwizard, and our first match is against Hufflepuff."

"What?"! Cho and I exclaimed at once. To get over my shock, I threw in that porcupine quill. Roger let out a frustrated groan, and Cho decided I might be onto something and threw one in, too. The potion gurgled and definitely shifted towards the pinkish side.

"They can't ask us to play them first thing!" Cho protested. "That's not fair."

"They know how close we are with the Hufflepuff team," I agreed.

"I know, but there's nothing I can do about it. I've got to run practices like nothing's different. No reason we can't try, right? I don't expect they'll have much of a team now, no offense Cho."

"Don't count them out," she defended meekly. I rolled my eyes. She would defend that boy of hers to the end, and he had passed his intensity and devotion on to his teammates. It was part of what I liked about him. His dashing good looks didn't hurt, of course.

"The Slytherins probably think they're too wonderful to bother even practicing this early," Roger continued, knowing that the best way to keep Cho from crying or pouting was to plow on with the conversation. "If we can keep it up, maybe we'll stand a chance for the cup this year."

This was being dramatic, of course. Cho was a good seeker, but she was nothing compared to Potter and Malfoy. The twins were amazing beaters; I'd seen first-hand how they could judge how fast someone was flying and know how hard and at what angle they should hit a bludger to nail their target dead-on. The only thing I felt mildly good about was our keeper, and that was because the job was mine. I knew that I could keep the quaffle on the right side of the hoop, no matter what strange route Angelina and Alicia flew at me.

So, really, it didn't really matter if we beat Hufflepuff. It would almost feel wrong if we did, as if we were taking advantage of their misfortune. Roger and Cho knew this, too, and sank back into their seats with matching sighs of resignation. To calm my own anger, I frowned back at my potion.

"I wonder," I muttered to myself, but they both perked up anyway, "if Snape has any Ashwinder eggs."

My brainstorming was met only with groans of ignorance from people why could never understand how much thought I put into my concoctions.

FGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGF

_ It was my first breakfast as a Ravenclaw, and I was miserable. I was already annoyed by my fellow females, who spent the hour or so between the welcoming feast and finally falling asleep discussing our textbooks and wondering what classes we would have the next day. I scooped sausage onto my plate with an overwhelming feeling that they needed to find themselves a new Sorting Hat at this school. _

_ I continued to mope as a young boy sat down next to me and snagged a piece of toast before I could. Even in my grumpiest state, food was worth feeling slighted over, so I smacked his hand. He dropped the toast in surprise, and I picked it up and put it on my plate._

_ "Ladies first," I scolded, smoothing a bit of butter on it. _

_ "Sorry," he grinned at me. "My mum always yells at me for stuff like 'at. I'm Roger Davies."_

_ "Mel Harper," I nodded. I thought the name sounded familiar, so I took a chance and asked, "You a first year?"_

_ "Yeah," he confirmed, taking another piece of toast for himself. "I remember you from the sorting. The hat took it's time with you." I must have grimaced, because he laughed. "It doesn't make mistakes, though. If it said Ravenclaw, it meant it. I wish I'd ended up with that lot, though," he cocked his head towards Gryffindor._

_ "Me, too," I grumbled, noting as Fred, George, and Angie laughed their way to the table and sat down behind me._

_ "Oh, you want to play Quidditch, too?"_

_ Clearly, we were not on the same page. I wrinkled my nose at both his nonsensical train of thought and the scrambled eggs he continued to pile onto his plate. Now, I could shovel down food with the best of the boys, but the mound on his plate disgusted even me. I glanced over my shoulder to make a face at Angelina, and was greeted by a matching expression. Apparently, Roger had similar eating habits to my other male friends at this school. At least I only had to deal with one disgusting eater._

_ "Nnnnnnooooo," I let out slowly. "Do you?"_

_ "Oh, absolutely! And Gryffindor's brilliant!" I narrowly avoided the bit of egg he sprayed in my direction and gave him a pointed look. "Sorry. I've been flying ever since I was little. My brother, he's down there," he pointed down to the far end of the table to a dark haired boy who shoved a sausage in his mouth and listened intently as a pretty blonde witch emphatically pointed to a book with one hand and him with the other, "he used to throw apples at me and tell me it was training for when bludgers flew my way."_

_ "That sounds like…excellent training," I lied, forcing a smile. Professor Flitwick began walking down the Ravenclaw table, handing out parchment to students. The other house heads did the same, so I reasonably assumed this was not bad news._

_ "Oh, it was terrible," Roger shook his head. "But it was better than when he used to use actual bludgers. Mum made him stop doing that in case they got loose and Muggles saw, y'know? I'll take apples any day." He paused to shovel another forkful of eggs in his mouth. "First years don't play. No point, since we can't have brooms. And we'd get killed against a 7th year beater. But you watch; next year, I'll be a Ravenclaw chaser."_

_ "It's, uh, good to have goals," I smiled weakly. Professor Flitwick chose that moment to slap slips of parchment between us, one for me and one for Roger, and I grabbed mine quickly to change the subject._

_ "Look! We have flying lessons this afternoon!" Roger beamed. Damn. "Yuck, but we start with Transfiguration! I've heard that's really hard."_

_ "What do the G's next to Herbology and Potions mean?" I frowned. Roger studied his schedule intently before answering._

_ "Must mean we have them with Gryffindor. Then that means we have flying…"_

_ I didn't listening because I leapt up from my seat, cleared the few steps between our tables, and forced my way in between Angelina and one of the Weasley boys, whom I assumed was Fred. He confirmed this when he let me know that he didn't like how I'd forced him to move over by poking my stomach with his fork and, when I tried to grab the offending silverware, tugged on my ponytail. After landing a solid smack on his shoulder blade, I shoved my schedule under Angie's nose and used her confusion to snatch hers. "Herbology and Potions," I announced happily, knowing she understood my meaning even if the twins looked confused._

_ "Is that it?" she frowned. "That's not fair! I can't be stuck with them all week! You haven't even met their other friend. Lee is…"_

_ "A wonderful man?" Fred interrupted._

_ "A lovely dancer?" George piped up._

_ "More entertaining than a Filibuster firework anonymously set off in a pot of stew?"_

_ "Easy on the eyes?"_

_ "I was going to say," Angie narrowed her eyes, "more annoying than both of you combined, but I take it all back now. Are we allowed to change houses?"_

_ I laughed. "You want to be in Ravenclaw? I'll trade you. Half of my house is reading a schoolbook over breakfast, and we haven't even officially started term yet. There's been a horrible mistake."_

* * *

><p><strong>So, I know this story is moving a bit slowly right now. I really wanted it to focus not only on her relationship with the twins and their friends but also on the impact that Cedric's death had on other students. OoTP from an older perspective, I suppose. So the story is going to follow a lot of the main events of the original work from her perspective with the addition of things happening to these older students the Golden Trio never particularly found out about. Bottom line, it <strong>_**will**_** pick up. I promise! Really, I do! If you think it's moving waaay to slow, or have any other opinions (good or bad!) PLEASE let me know! I love hearing what you have to say.**

**Next Chapter: **_**Eating Habits and Ground Scarabs**_


	7. Eating Habits and Ground Scarabs

"I hate you," Angelina announced as she entered the Great Hall. I knew she was talking to me even though I didn't look up from my book because she made Fred slide over to sandwich me between the twins, and she sat on the other side of him. Apparently she was so filled with hatred that she couldn't eat in my general vicinity.

"That's awfully rude. What has Mel ever done to you?" George asked.

"Besides light your hair on fire," Fred added.

"And hit your cat in the head."

"And steal your broom."

"And write your mum that you shouted at her."

"And hide your homework under the couch cushions."

"And-"

I shoved my arm, sleeve and all, into George's mouth to shut him up, which made Fred nearly spew his pumpkin juice onto Alicia. Thankfully, he managed to contain himself, or else we would have had the eruption of Mount Spinnet on our hands.

Turns out, my dear friend was none-too-pleased about my outburst in DADA, especially since a similar performance from Harry and his friends had put Umbridge in the bitterest of moods for the seventh year Gryffindor class after lunch. Angie wasn't upset because of the effect it had on herself, of course. Oh no, she was unhappy because Fred and George had to run lines for Umbridge on the day she wanted to have Gryffindor's first quidditch practice.

"So reschedule. It's not like you have anything to worry about, anyway," I rolled my eyes.

"_Nothing to worry about?_" Angelina gaped as if I'd just told her she had green hair. "Do you even go to this school? We have loads to worry about! Ravenclaw is dangerous…well, you knew that, but let me remind you that Cho's only gotten better as Seeker and if she's got a new broom, she's even more dangerous. Slytherin is, well, is Slytherin. And Hufflepuff has to prove they can do it without Diggory."

"Angie," I shook my head as George pushed my arm out of his face since I'd forgotten I'd put it there, "think realistically. Slytherin is your only opponent. Cho is a wreck. I'm fairly certain she'll cry the first time she gets on her broom, and I say that with love in my heart. Hufflepuff is in shambles. They're too busy trying to get over the loss of their friend and leader to even worry about you."

"You're wrong," Angie shook her head and stabbed her sausage forcefully. "Everyone's a threat. You hear that?" she pointed the sausage at the boys, who looked at her with such wide eyes that they couldn't possibly have been paying attention and were clearly shocked at suddenly being addressed. "Everyone."

"Am I a spy?" I challenged.

"Oh, especially you," George nodded.

"Yeah. First, you learn our eating habits. Then, you learn all our top-secret flight patterns," Fred agreed.

"Do you have top secret flight patterns?"

"No," Fred and George chorused. "But," George continued, "if we did, you would learn them quite easily by watching us eat. It's clearly evident in how Angelina cuts her sausage."

"Oy, it's not gentlemanly to talk about how a lady cuts her sausage," Fred scolded his brother.

FGFGFGFGFG

"Professor Snape?" I asked carefully, hovering in the doorway to his office. I would normally burst in, but Snape was standing over a cauldron, and I knew that if someone ever startled me as I was working, I wouldn't hesitate to severely maim them. I assumed he had the same level of concentration, although he was probably a bit less neurotic.

"Miss Harper, I believe I am free of your abundant personality until tomorrow morning, and I do rather enjoy our time apart. If you don't mind seeing yourself out," Snape murmured as he studied the liquid in his cauldron, barely giving me the contempt he normally did.

"I just have a few quick questions, I swear. I can wait if you're busy."

Snape closed his eyes momentarily, let out a deep breath, and added something I couldn't make out to his cauldron. "I am making a very delicate potion, and chose this moment because I had no distractions. The circumstances have changed, and I very much wish them to change back."

"I won't make a sound, I swear. What are you making?"

Snape rolled not only his eyes but his entire head. "If it will stop your pestering, I have been asked to make some veritaserum."

"Oh!" Now, this was exciting for me. Veritaserum was known to be particularly difficult to make, not to mention extremely powerful. Three drops and you would spill your deepest secrets to whoever asked. "Can I watch? Please, sir? I won't say a word, I swear."

"No."

"Professor Snape, _pleeeeeeease_," I begged in a most unlady like fashion. I clasped my hands together, careful not to break the two vials of potion I was carrying, and bounced on the balls of my feet.

Professor Snape sighed. "You really are incorrigibly maddening, Miss Harper."

"Thank you, sir!"

So, carefully positioned at the edge of the cauldron to see every ingredient he added without blocking his light, I watched. Occasionally, Snape would murmur a note like, "when you melt your cauldron, it will be because you added the jobberknoll feather before the goosegrass" or "if the potion turns green like this, add armadillo bile", but otherwise stayed silent. We had done this many times before, me watching intently as he made a potion I only dreamed to brew, him muttering about the various reasons why I would fail when I attempted in the future. I lived for these moments. He was really quite marvelous to watch work. He could cut a slug into perfectly equal pieces with the same speed and precision it would take someone to dice an onion. The man was a treasure-trove of knowledge that I fought daily to keep at my disposal, and moments like this reminded me why I did.

But, then, he did something odd.

He added ground scarab beetles.

Ground scarab beetles?

Those were used in the wit-sharpening potion we made fourth year. In fact, so was that armadillo bile. I looked at him sharply, and Professor Snape raised his eyebrows at the movement but did not look up from the potion.

"Is something wrong, Miss Harper?"

Yes. Yes, something is absolutely wrong. You took ingredients that, when combined, make the drinker think more clearly and added them to a potion that is supposed to make one think so unclearly that they blurt out everything. I want to know why. Why are you making a false veritaserum, and why did you let me watch when you knew I would notice? You did know I would notice, too, so don't try to deny that. Who are you even making this for? The production and usage of veritaserum is heavily monitored by the Ministry of Magic, which is why I haven't tried to make it. That and the thought that I could die seven different ways attempting to make it, but mostly the 'being arrested' thing. You, Professor Snape, are up to something.

"No, sir. Nothing's wrong."

"It takes the potion a full lunar cycle to mature. I suppose, in that time, I could deign to answer your questions. You did come down here for a reason, yes?"

"Yes!" I nodded as I followed him to his desk. "First off, do you have any of the potion that makes pictures move?" Snape narrowed his eyes. "Colin Creevey is…"

He waved his hand dismissively. "The potion is simple enough to make. Even someone of your skill could complete it."

"Yes, I know, but I just don't have the time with homework and quidditch and…"

"I fail to see how your failure to properly manage your time creates a crisis in my life."

"Professor Snaaaaaaape, he will not go away until he gets that potion. The more he hangs around me, the more I'll have to avoid him." I bit my bottom lip and hoped my acting skills were up to snuff. "I supposed I could spend more time down here experimenting with new potions. I _do_ have lots of ideas I want to try, and it would be more convenient to be tucked away down here so close to your office for if I needed help…"

Snape leveled his gaze on me and stared for a moment. I stared back. In a staring contest, I knew I could win. I was a master at freezing my face in one position for long periods of time; Snape would not be the first to test my stare, and he would certainly not be the last to lose to my prowess. "I will see what I can do, but it is not at the top of my priority list."

"Nor should it be," I nodded. He'd have it to me in two classes, and we both knew it. Next class, he would realize that, in fact, I was more annoying that he remembered from past years and attribute it to Colin. The class after, he would present me with my request. "Also, I made a new potion. But I don't know what it is."

Snape raised his eyebrows. A new potion always intrigued him. "Do you have a list of ingredients?"

"Yeah," I nodded, pulling the folded parchment out of my pocket. He took both vials of royal blue liquid from me, flattened the parchment onto his desk, and studied both carefully. His gaze flicked between the ingredient list and the vial as he tried to discern what exactly I had created.

He unplugged a vial and sniffed it cautiously. "Odorless." He looked at the list. "No harmful combinations, nothing poisonous…"

"So, in theory, I could just drink a bit and find out what it does?"

"I wouldn't recommend that," Snape shook his head. "Knowing the potionmaker, that could turn out quite badly for you."

"Well, how else am I supposed to test it? I can't exactly go around asking first years if they want to drink a mysterious blue liquid that may or might not make them grow feathers."

"I highly doubt that would be the result," he murmured, holding the liquid up to the dim lights. "Fairly translucent. Congratulations, Miss Harper, you have thoroughly mystified me with this. If you could bring another vial with you next class, I would like to run some experiments. You might have actually produced something worth my time."

Unlike the last time I brought him an experimental potion. That one turned out to be a cross between a love potion antidote and the dreamless sleep potion. If anyone ever wanted to simultaneously get over their uncharacteristic infatuation and their insomnia, I was the girl to find. He belittled me for six straight classes for wasting his time with that one.

Hopefully, this one would prove more worthwhile.

* * *

><p><strong>Of course, I have the same disclaimer as always. Thank you so much for your reviews! Your input means a lot to me.<strong>

**Next chapter: _Zebras and Nightmares_**


	8. Zebras and Nightmares

"I wondered when I'd be seeing you."

I grinned at the portrait of the Fat Lady, who stared down her nose at me. I always got the feeling that she didn't like me, but she could never deny me entrance to the Gryffindor common room. Between Angie, Katie, Alicia, Lee, Fred, and George, I always had someone to get me past her; it was easier for us to hang out in Gryffindor Tower than in Ravenclaw since they vastly outnumbered me. Also, I never liked answering my riddle in front of the boys. They had quite a fondness for distracting my thought process.

"And a happy start to the school year to you, too, Henrietta."

"That's not my name," she shook her head at our old game. I'd spent years trying to figure out her name, if she even had one, but never could quite guess it correctly. "And I'm not letting you in, either. You're a Ravenclaw, not a Gryffindor."

"Oh, c'mon!" I whined, sticking out my bottom lip and batting my eyes to give her the full impact of my pouty face. "It's after-hours. If I get caught out of bed, I'll get detention. I don't want detention!"

"Well, I suppose you should have thought of that before leaving your bed."

I gave up on the pout to groan in frustration. "I _tried_ to follow the rules, but I'm not allowed in! We have to answer a riddle, right, and I'm good with riddles. Bloody brilliant. But, I come up with these really creative riddles that no one can ever solve, and that makes it harder for me to solve riddles that aren't quite as…unique!"

"I can only imagine where this is going." Her tone suggested that she was not particularly surprised that I got my riddle wrong.

"See, okay, the riddle was 'what is black and white and red all over', right?"

"Simple. A newspaper. It's a play on words. The color red versus read 'I a book a few days ago'. Everyone has heard that one."

"Well, I haven't," I wrinkled my nose at her, which made her smile. "But my answer was still perfectly corrected!"

"What else could you possibly have come up with?"

I watched my feet as I scuffed at the ground. "I said a zebra with sunburn," I mumbled, then regained my energy and indignation to insist, "and can you believe I was turned away?"

"The only thing more shocking was you ever being chosen for Ravenclaw House," she sniffed dryly.

"Watch it," I warned. "Now you understand why I so desperately need to get in here. I really want to be snug in my bed, but this school is doing everything it can to stop me. _And it's really bloody dark in these halls!_"

"I'm not letting you in."

"Now, wait, hold it," I held a hand up. "If I give you the password, you have to open up no matter what, right?" She nodded tersely. "So, then why am I arguing with you?"

"I often ask myself the same thing."

"Oh, be quiet, Beatrice."

"Wrong again."

I rolled my eyes. "Cockroach clusters."

She raised her eyebrows. "If you think I'm going to let you in with that, you are sorely mistaken. That is _not_ the password."

"What?" I exclaimed. "But Fred said…" and I stopped. Because, of course, Fred was the one to tell me, not George, and not Angie. Coming from either of them, I most certainly could have trusted it. From Fred, though? I always had to take the things he said with a grain of salt. I loved him dearly, like a part of me that I couldn't be without, but while George liked to watch the mayhem firsthand, Fred liked just knowing that his mischief would eventually cause a hassle whether or not he could witness it. It could be said that he was the crueler of the twins, but that makes him sound mean, which he never was. He just took the jokes to a more personal level, and I was on the unfortunate end this particular time.

"Dear?" the Fat Lady prompted. "Are you alright?"

"I'm planning a murder. Look, could you just let me in? Please?" I pleaded. She shook her head.

"Sorry, dearie, can't. I don't move without a password."

"But it's _dark_!" I insisted, bouncing on the balls of my feet to convey just how urgent the situation was. One could never be entirely sure what was lurking in the shadows of Hogwarts, and ever since that troll got loose on Halloween my third year, I preferred not to take any chances in the halls at night.

"You could always wait around. One of those boys of yours is still out." I swore, hoping that neither one of them was planning something that would cross Filch or Umbridge. I didn't need to deal with that right now.

"Any chance it was Lee?" I asked hopefully. She shook her head.

"No, it was one of the twins."

"Any idea where he went?"

"Sorry, dear, haven't left my frame all night. You're not thinking about going to find him, are you?"

"Well, if I'm going to get in trouble for being out of bed or get killed by a shadow-lurking beast, I may as well be doing something, right? I don't want my first detention of Hogwarts to be because I couldn't get in to either of my common rooms."

"This is _not_ your common room!" she insisted, but the smallest of grins played on her lips. "You are a Ravenclaw, dear. Look at your robes if you forget that."

"If I get eaten alive, I will come back as a ghost and spend eternity in front of your portrait," I grumbled. "G'night."

FGFGFGFGFG

The halls were eerily silent at night, and I was reminded that no students ever snuck out during the first week of classes. Later in the year, you could easily find at least three students out of bed. Well, we could easily find them. That was only because we knew this school like the back of our hands. All thanks to that Map.

_ "When I told you to get a map so you could get to potions on time, I was not suggesting you steal something from Filch. It was just a joke!"_

_ "Yeah, but we love to go above and beyond, Mel. Look!" Fred grinned. He shoved the folded parchment at me, but Angelina snatched it first. She gave the boys a doubtful look before unfolding it._

_ I leaned over to look, too, but the paper was completely blank. "That's not a map, dunderheads."_

_ "Not to you, no," George waggled his eyebrows as he took the paper back. "That's the brilliant part. Take a look. Do the honors, brother?"_

_ "Why thank you, brother," Fred nodded. "I solemnly swear I am up to no good."_

_ "We spent weeks figuring that out," George beamed at me, but I was too busy gawking at what was now covering the paper. We would spend months pouring over the map, using it to learn many of this castles secrets and sneaking up on our unsuspecting friends, all while easily avoiding the people we wanted nothing to do with. It was, in my mind, the greatest magical invention I had ever seen._

I rather wished I had that map, too, as I crept towards the Great Hall. Those stupid twins had to pass it off to Harry Potter, though, and what good had that done me lately? If there was a mountain troll on the loose again, it would be rather handy to have it written down on a piece of magical parchment, but, no, that would make life too simple. Instead, I held my wand out in front of me with hexes running through my head, listening for the slightest sound. I could easily navigate the halls at night without running into Argus Filch, mostly because he had a tendency to mutter to himself and give away his location. However, that damned cat of his was evil. All cats are evil, mind you, but Mrs. Norris was the worst combination of normal feline scheming and Filch's malevolence. And, of course, I was never certain that there wasn't, say, a vampire hiding around here somewhere. Everyone said Hogwarts was safe. But that doesn't explain that chamber opening up, or the troll, or Sirius Black's break-in, or our werewolf teacher, or Cedric. I had my doubts about this place.

Thankfully, I ran into neither the cat nor Peeves nor a beast intent on feasting on my flesh during my journey and slipped into the Great Hall unnoticed. The candles floating above the tables glowed gently, much softer than they did during the daytime as if they, too, was resting for the night. Illuminated by their gentle light was a familiar shock of red hair and the man it belonged to, sitting on the top of one of the tables with his feet on the bench as he stared at the staff table.

"What's on your mind, dunderhead?" I asked, pocketing my wand so I didn't seem like a complete coward. My voice made George jump, but he tried to play it off like I hadn't startled him by running his hand through his hair and offering me a tired smile.

"What're you doing here?" he countered as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

I shrugged and climbed up onto the table next to him. "I can't get into Ravenclaw and Fred gave me the wrong password for Gryffindor so your Fat Lady won't let me in. I was hoping you could lend me a hand."

"_My_ Fat Lady? You shouldn't call Ginny that. 'S rude." I giggled and bumped his shoulder with mine. He grinned but let it fade with a sigh. "We've got Herbology tomorrow."

"Very good," I nodded. "Which is sort of why I want my sleep. You know I don't do all that well in herbology."

"You got an A on your OWLs," he rolled his eyes.

"Pure luck," I shook my head. "Potions and hexes. Those're what I'm good at. I don't do well with potting soil and things that can bite my face off."

This was an open invitation for George to mock me. He loved to remind me of the Magical Creatures class our third year when I did, in fact, nearly get my face bitten off. But not tonight. Instead, he gave an obligatory snort and the ghost of a grin and returned his gaze to the staff table.

"What's wrong?" He shook his head. "George, you might be a good liar, but I see through it. Tell me."

He opened his mouth to talk but instead let out a sigh and looked down at his knees. "Fred's not taking it."

Of course. Fred hated Herbology. It was the biggest academic difference between them. George had this way with plants and was the absolute only reason that Fred did well in that class through our first four years. Most of the work Fred turned in was, in fact, his brother's doing. But George couldn't carry his twin through the OWLs, and Fred's score was abysmal. Not that he particularly cared, of course, but George did. They did everything together, but his love for his brother wasn't going to keep him from taking the class. He really did love those bloody plants. It hadn't been such a big deal last year, what with the Triwizard Tournament to distract everyone, but George obviously felt his brother's absence in the first class we'd had this year.

"Well, I'm there. That's something, right?" I murmured hopefully. Picking people up was never one of my strong suits, especially when that someone was normally the one that kept the smile on my own face. The Weasley twins didn't get upset often enough for me to know how to deal with it.

George looked at me through the hair that had fallen over his eyes when he dropped his head down and offered a small smile. "Yeah," he agreed softly, "it's something."

I held his gaze longer than I should have. Having George look at me with that tiny smile on his face bothered me; he was more worried than he was letting on, but he felt that he had to put on a brave face for me. I always hated when people put on a brave face for me. Part of being afraid of everything meant that brave faces terrified me. There is no surer sign that something is horribly wrong than forced stoicism.

Slowly, I reached out and brushed his hair back out of his eyes like I did for Angie, Cho, and Ginny when they came to me upset. "Well, then, buck up," I told him. He chuckled at that and broke my gaze to look at the staff table. "You're going to have your hands full keeping me alive in that class, anyway. I'm only taking it because knowing about plants helps with potions and because I didn't want you to get all lonely since no one else was stupid enough to continue on."

"Consider it payback," he shrugged. "You're the only reason we even bothered showing up to potions, you know. If you weren't so entertaining, I never would've done a bloody thing in that class."

I laughed and slid off the table. When my feet hit the ground, I turned and offered a hand to him. He took it and hopped down, dropping my hand when he was safely on the ground.

"Do me a favor, huh? Don't sneak out so much. I've got a bad feeling about this Umbridge woman, and I don't think you should be crossing her."

"Can't do that, love," he grinned at me, throwing an arm over my shoulder as he led me out of the Great Hall. "Fred and I already have brilliant pranks planned for this year. They'll be great fun."

"I really doubt anything you come up with could be described as brilliant. You remember your last _brilliant_ plan? How'd it go when you tried to cross the age line around the Goblet of Fire?"

"One, I'm insulted that you think so little of us, and I feel insulted for Fred since he's not here to do it himself. B, as far as the age line goes, clearly it was worth the attempt. Other than what _actually _occurred, what's the worst that could've happened?"

Stories my mother told me over pancakes with the Daily Prophet lies spread in front of us flashed through my mind. "You could've been chosen."

I avoided George's look by pretending that I needed to pay very careful attention to my feet as we walked up the steps. I didn't need to see whatever confusion, pity, condescension, or amusement rested there. In a move that surprised me, he put his arm back around my shoulders and gave me a reassuring squeeze. "You're mum's been filling your head with nightmares again, Mellie." I hated when he called me that. "There's no reason to worry. We're just having a bit of fun. Umbridge can't be all that bad. Right?" I grumbled incoherently, positive that someone was going to get themself killed with this stupid woman despite his logic. "Riiiight?" he repeated, leaning over to ask the question directly in my ear while tightening his hold on my shoulders.

"Right. You're right," I giggled, pushing his face away from mine until he let go of my shoulders. "But I'm not wrong about the tournament. It was too dangerous."

George sighed. "Yeah, I've been meaning to ask you about that since I've finally got you alone and all. How've you been doing? I know how close you and Cedric were."

I shrugged lamely. There were so many things to say to that, so many answers to such a simple question, but I didn't want to give any of them. I couldn't just ignore George, though; he always got an answer out of me in the end, so it was pointless to fight him. "I miss him. He was just…always around, you know? Now, he's not. The whole world's changing because of what happened, but everyone refuses to see it." And it dishonors his name to act like anything other than the horror Harry Potter described took him away from us.

I immediately hated the heaviness that settled around us. I hated whenever Cedric's name came up. I didn't want to talk about him. When I wasn't with Angie and the twins, I was with Roger, Cho, and Cedric. He was easily one of my best friends, one I'd had since second year Transfiguration. I'd set him up with Cho and could still remember betting Roger how long it would take Cedric to ask her out, kiss her, make the relationship official. And I'd spent the entire summer mourning him, ignoring letters from Katie and Alicia and anyone else who sent me things, glad that the twins seemed to know I didn't want to hear from them. I didn't want to talk about it. I just wanted it to go away.

"I don't want to talk about him."

"I know," George nodded. "And I won't make you tonight. But you'll have to eventually talk to someone. And until you do, I'm not telling you what I did this summer."

"Are you trying to blackmail me?" I laughed.

"Absolutely not!" George faked offense. "I'm…bartering. Do we have a deal?"

"Depends," I narrowed my eyes. "Did you do something interesting this summer?"

"Extremely."

I studied his face for a moment, searching for lies, and he raised his eyebrows and pursed and puckered his lips to make me laugh. "Okay, okay, we have a deal." We shook pinkies to confirm. "Okay, so, let me ask you a question." George raised his eyebrows as we came up to the Fat Lady. "What's black and white and red all over?"

"Easy, a newspaper. Everyone's heard that one. Why? You didn't say something stupid like a zebra with a sunburn, did you?"

I threw my hands up in the air and growled in frustration. No one ever sees my brilliance.

* * *

><p><strong>Okay, so that one was a bit longer than most. Next chapter will probably be back to normal length unless things get all crazy again like with this one. Thank you as always for your wonderful reviews! They really do make my day!<strong>

**Next chapter: **_**The Inquisition**_


	9. The Inquisition

Professor Bathsheba Babbling was a rather short, waiflike woman with flowing grey hair that fell to her knees, always left down, and wire-rimmed circular glasses that were always slightly askew on her nose. Her face was quite wrinkled, her voice rather quivery, and her movements extremely slow. She was the most scholarly looking professor in Hogwarts, and it wasn't a stretch to imagine that she was as old as the ancient runes she taught about. Simply put, I absolutely adored her.

Ancient Runes was perhaps the most exciting class of my week simply because there was absolutely no reason for me to take it. It would not help me become a potioneer in any way, shape, or form. It was just _fun_. I loved learning about how, to the long dead and gone, these images used to mean something grand. Yes, there was a reason I was placed into Ravenclaw, lest anyone doubted. Runes were old and outdated and completely useless, and I loved them to bits. I signed up on a whim when we chose our third year courses (and Roger agreed to take it with me), chose Care of Magical Creatures for the potion benefits, and chose Divination because it was right up my alley. Not a particularly fun course load, as I had no free period that year, but every other Ravenclaw did the same blooming thing. Because all Ravenclaws are idiots. Sounds like a contradiction, I know, but it's not. Geniuses have no common sense.

I was always excited to head to ancient runes. It was a class designed for Ravenclaws and the odd braniacs in other houses. When I heard Hermione took it, I was not the least bit surprised. This was a class that only a library dweller could fully appreciate.

Unless, of course, the Hogwarts High Inquisitor was carefully positioned on a stool in the front corner of the room.

Roger and I froze just inside the doorway, causing an unfortunate Slytherin to walk straight into us. He muttered something that could have been an apology, straightened his glasses, and continued towards his seat, all while still rummaging through his bag. I shook my head at the sight of Dolores Umbridge; Roger and I had just said how we'd managed not to have any observed classes yet. Spoke too soon.

"Oh, noooo," Roger groaned a bit too loudly. Umbridge looked around for the cause of the noise, so I grabbed his arm and dragged him towards our desk, which was fortunately across the room from her.

"'Scuse me, Professor?" This was Bernie Lewellon, the Slytherin that never looked up from his bag. His classmates thought he was genius because he ran into first years in the halls and knocked them down without ever looking up. Truth was, he was always too absorbed in that bag or his textbook (or something else entirely too academic for your average Slytherin) to notice that there were other people in the halls between classes. He would have made a good Ravenclaw. If not for that obsession with the Dark Arts.

"Yes, Bernerd?" Professor Babble muttered as she began sifting through papers on her desk to find her lesson plans.

"When I looked at the list of homework assignments for the term, I got things confused and did the homework for the tenth of next month instead of the tenth of_ this_ month. So, could I give you next month's homework this month and this month's homework next month?"

Typical Ancient Runes student.

I'd made the exact same mistake the year before.

"Yes, Bernie."

"_Hem-hem_."

Professor Babble ignored Umbridge, which made me uncharacteristically giddy. So, of course, Umbridge tried again.

"_Hem-hem._"

"Do you…need some…water, dear?" Professor Babble asked in her slow, rhythmic way of talking.

"No, thank you, Professor Babble, I'm quite alright," Professor Umbridge smiled ungratefully. "I was just wondering, sorry, I must have misheard you, but I thought you said you were going to accept the wrong day's assignment today and take today's assignment at a later date."

Professor Babble, without missing a beat or showing the least sign of irritation, said, "No, dearie…you could not have…misheard me…I was not…speaking to you. I was…speaking to…my student. But, yes…that is…what I said."

Roger grabbed my shoulder and clapped a hand over my mouth, and I did the same to him so neither one of us burst out laughing. Dear, sweet Professor Babble. Umbridge couldn't win this. There couldn't possibly be another witch or wizard qualified to teach ancient runes. Where else would you find someone that probably carved the runes themselves? And Babble could never possibly mean to be a smart-aleck. She was just old and crotchety, and I imagine she had been old and crotchety her entire life. She was probably the oldest, most crotchety toddler the world has ever seen. It was part of her charm. No matter how unsuitable Umbridge found her, Babble's job was safe, and I imagine Babble would have been well aware of that if she had been at all aware of the fact that her job was potentially on the line. Of that point, however, I doubted she had any clue. Along with a distinct lack of common sense, increased intelligence seems to bring about decreased observational skills.

"P-p-puh…" Rufus Bradley, one of our quidditch teammates, started, but he had to stop to control his laughter. "Professor," he said smoothly after swallowing his laughter, "I know you said three feet of parchment, but I couldn't possibly make my essay less than six."

"That's fine," Babble shook her head slowly. "As long as…all the facts…are relevant."

"Oh, it's all relevant," Bradley assured her. "One more question…"

This was how every class started, with the ridiculous questions only Ravenclaws could come up with. Is it alright if I turn in homework twice the length you asked for? Would it be alright if I turned in all the homework for the month today because I have it all done and I don't want to spill anything on it? When our silliness was over, Professor Babble walked us through her lesson and set us off to translate a passage from our textbooks that several students had already translated and, therefore, had to translate again. I was one of those students, and wondered eagerly if I'd get the same outcome as my first attempt. The only thing that was possibly more entertaining than the assignment was our dear High Inquisitor.

"And, now, how long have you been teaching here?"

Professor Babble's eyes grew very wide as she pondered this. "Sixty-ni…no…yes…" she paused, smacked her lips together, and narrowed her eyes. "Yes. Sixty-nine years." Umbridge bent to scribble something on her parchment. "No!" Umbridge froze. "…Yes. Seventy-nine years. I started…teaching after…Churchill died."

"Churchill?" Umbridge raised her eyebrows slightly.

"My frog."

"Your...I see." Umbridge scribbled furiously on her parchment. "And you've been teaching this class the entire time?"

"Well, who else…would teach it? I…am…an expert…in the field."

"So I have been told," Umbridge smiled condescendingly. "And, in your years here, have you found any of the…changes at Hogwarts to be…undesirable?"

"Undesirable? Yes, as a…matter of fact…I have." Umbridge's eyes lit up greedily, and I froze mid-word to focus my attention fully on them. "When I started here…staff were…provided their own…owlrey instead of…sharing with students. Much…quieter."

Umbridge's smile faltered. "I don't recall there ever being a staff owlrey at Hogwarts."

"Oh, yes…" Professor Babbling smiled fondly. "Right next…to my room. Quite…convenient. Did away with it…after Peeves…started switching owls…between…the two. Professor Binns…couldn't find his owl…for a month!"

Umbridge stared blankly for a long moment. "I see," she let out finally. "Is that your _only_ complaint out of 69 years of experience in Hogwarts? You've been here longer than Dumbledore, have you not?"

"I have," she nodded. "Wonderful…man. Excellent…sense of…fashion. Smells…rather pleasant, too. Can't think of…any more…complaints."

"Nothing more recent?"

Professor Babble shook her head. "No, dear. Nothing…recent. Although…the quality of…the steak and kidney pies…has gone down. The house elves…need to rethink…their recipe."

"I see," Umbridge murmured again and scribbled on her parchment. "An owlrey and steak and kidney pie."

My hand hurt from eating my knuckles to keep from laughing. Roger's face was buried in the tabletop, and his shoulder shook with suppressed chuckles. And to think I almost hadn't tried for a N.E.W.T in this class.

When we left class, Roger left for Arithmancy, and when Fred found me in the hall I dragged him to the library to do a bit of research for our charms essay. When we entered, Cho and Marietta Edgecomb looked up from their table, where several books were spread open, and Cho waved us over. Fred let out a not-so-manly whimper; he didn't particularly like the girls. I wasn't all too fond of Marietta, and judging by the sharp way she assessed Fred and I, the feeling was mutual.

"You'll never guess what I found out today," Cho hissed excitedly as we sat down. Fred frowned at me as if he thought I already had guessed, but I shook my head.

"It's not _that_ exciting," Marietta rolled her eyes. "Interesting, but not worth all her fanfare."

"Oh," Cho shook her head, "it really is. We were looking through the potions books in the back corner over there." Marietta gestured to the section in question, one that I was extremely familiar with. "And we found _this_." She pushed one of the dustier, mustier books towards us. Fred wrinkled his nose at the drawings of herbs and detailed instructions, but I immediately stared at the recipe it was open to.

"No, not that," Marietta shook her head and flipped the book to the back. "That."

I frowned at the list of names in front of me. Most students didn't bother to get extra help for potions essays; they skated by with the bare minimum. Of those that did bother, most never took the book from the library. Even I rarely checked out books. I absorbed every last detail in the quiet of the library where Fred, George, and Lee wouldn't bother me. Very few names were scribbled on the check-out list, and one of them caught my eye immediately.

"Umbridge." Fred read. "So what? She checked a book out when she went to school. It's not exactly an uncanny phenomenon."

"No, but _look_," Cho insisted, stabbing the name with her finger. Fred and I leaned forward and squinted at the name to figure out what Cho wanted us to see, but neither of us could decipher out what she wanted. She gazed at us expectantly, but we just looked at her blankly. With a huff, she snatched the book away and looked at it to make sure she was showing us the correct thing. "There's an H next to her name. _Look_." She shoved the book back at us.

"She was a Hufflepuff?" Fred balked. "Well, that's clearly wrong. You can practically smell the Slytherin rolling off her. Smells like rotten fish."

"That's what I thought," Cho nodded. "Well, not the fish part. That's…disgusting. But it makes sense that she was Hufflepuff."

"How's that?" I asked.

"Well, what's the number one quality of a Hufflepuff?" She really should have known better than to put us on the spot like that. My IQ had a tendency to drop when a Weasley was around. With an exasperated look at Marietta and another huff, she answered her own question. "Loyalty. Undying, unwavering loyalty. And when you take that to the extreme, what do you get?" Fred looked to me for an answer, and I stared wide-eyed at Cho. "Blind following."

"And Umbridge is basically a puppet for the minister!" I finished, and Cho grinned because we had finally caught on. "She'll do whatever he tells her, right down to altering the very foundation of Hogwarts to suit him."

"Exactly," Cho snapped. "She only seems wretched now because she's 100% loyal to the ministry."

"Wait a moment," Marietta interrupted, "my mother happens to work for the ministry. There's nothing wrong with being loyal to it."

"Well…n-no, no, I'm not saying that," Cho backtracked quickly.

"The ministry is fine, but the minster is off his rocker," Fred made a face, and I nodded my agreement. "Following whatever he says is ridiculous. I still think she would have been better in Slytherin." He shook his head as Marietta glared silently into space, protesting our ministry comments by refusing to look at us. Oh, how she could hurt me...

"Forget the evil for a moment and think about this, though. She's not brave enough to be in Gryffindor, and she's definitely not smart enough to be one of us. And, now I need to do some research here, but I don't think Umbridge is a family name. One of the wizard families, you know? It's not like Black or Malfoy. Maybe…" Cho bounced excitedly in her seat, "maybe she's got some muggle in her somewhere. A grandmother or something. Maybe she couldn't get in Slytherin. Hufflepuff would be the only house she would possibly belong in."

This was something to think about. Umbridge as a Hufflepuff. Sitting in that common room, wearing those robes, rooting on that quidditch team. It was strange to think of her as anything other than purely evil, but I could picture her in Hufflepuff. There were variations in every house. Not every Gryffindor was courageous and particularly intelligent, as that sweet boy Neville showed. Not every Slytherin was cunning; take Crabbe and Goyle. Not even every Ravenclaw was a book-worm know-it-all; look at Loony Lovegood with her _Quibbler_ and her nargles. Even Cedric had been an oddity. Most Hufflepuffs were, as Cho had said, the rejects of the other houses. Not clever or cunning or courageous. _Dear Hufflepuff, she took the rest, and taught them all she knew._ But Cedric was clever _and_ brave. He could have easily been a Ravenclaw or a Gryffindor. His loyalty had shone brighter than anything else, though, I suppose. Umbridge had probably been the same way, except without being particularly suited to another house.

"Good work, Cho," I nodded, standing up from the table with the sudden urge to go find Angie and fill her in on this discovery. "Let me know if you find out anything else."

* * *

><p><strong>A little of my personal theory on Umbridge. Next chapter is going to be longer because I want to get the twins back together (I know, I know, it's about time) and quidditch and further the story a bit, so I've got a lot to do. Hope to get it up soon. It's mostly written, just needs a bit of touching up. <strong>

**Sooo, next chapter is (tentatively): **_**Pre-Breakfast Dissent and Secret Meetings**_


	10. Dissent and Secret Meetings

Cho Chang knew better than to wake me before the last possible second, so when she ripped the pillow from under my head that grey morning in late September and hit my face with it, I hoped for her sake that it was for something important.

"Wa'up. Roga wahsa prakiss."

"Whassat?"

"Roga…" she stopped to yawn and decided our incoherent conversation would be easier for her to participate in if she sat on my bed. "pra…ahhhh, practice."

"No," I muttered, taking my pillow back. I rolled over, buried my face in it, and closed my eyes again. Judging by the pinkish grey sky outside, I had an easy two hours of sleep left before my daily routine of rolling out of bed, throwing on the first uniform I touched, patting my hair into place, thanking the universe for giving me curly hair so I didn't have to brush it every morning, running out of my room to get to the Great Hall and shovel some kind of food in my face in record time, and rushing off to class.

"Yes," Cho insisted, grabbing my arm and shaking me weakly. "Roger says."

"Roger can eat my socks."

"You're disgusting. Come _on_." She tugged on my arm, so I tugged back until it was free.

"We 'av practice toniiiiiiight," I moaned into my pillow."

"If you really want to lay around all day, I'll just tell the team to hold practice here."

"That won't work. No boys allowed."

"You think I don't know how to outsmart that?"

Disgusting thoughts of Cho and Cedric immediately flew into my head, and I sat bolt upright in bed. "CHO! That's disgusting!" To further show my disapproval, I grabbed my pillow and hit her with it.

"Oh, good! You're awake! Let's go!"

Merlin, how I hated her sometimes.

"Oy, Davies, do you know what time it is?" I bleated as Cho and I slumped onto a bench.

"I know perfectly well. It's time to practice."

"Wrong," I shook my head. "It's time for me to kill you for getting my arse out of bed, and if that is a drawing board, I will make your death a slow one."

"Rogerrrrrrr," Cho whined. "You _didn't_ wake us up to talk about strategieeeeees, did you?"

"Both of you, quiet," he ordered, pointing between us with his wand. "And no whispering amongst yourselves and getting all giggly." He knew us too well, although I thought we snickered rather than giggled. "As you all know, our first match is going to be, erm, challenging."

"Challenging?" Rufus Bradley snorted. "We're playing Hufflepuff!"

"We can't possibly win," Patrick Chambers agreed. Davies glared at his fellow chasers, but that didn't stop them. One thing we had learned over the years as teammates was that once Bradley and/or Chambers started, they could not be stopped.

"If we lose, we've lost the only match we stand a reasonable chance at and are totally thrown out of the cup. If we win, we've just beaten a reeling Hufflepuff team that the entire school wants to see do well because of the turmoil they're going through." Bradley shook his head.

"We lose just by walking on the field. And how are we even supposed to play them? Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs have to stick together. It's all about the Gryffindors and Slytherins now; if we don't help each other, no one else will even remember us," Chambers added.

I tried to make it a point to start all my mornings with such pleasant thoughts.

"That's enough out of you," Roger warned. "All of you. It's pointless to say this season is no different than all the others, because we all know it is different. But we are Ravenclaws, and Ravenclaws do not give up. Hufflepuff doesn't want to win because we took pity on them. They'll be playing at the top of their game. It might not feel like it to us, but they'll be doing everything they can, and they deserve to play a team that won't play down to them. That's how we support them. We play them with respect. Fair?"

Cho was crying. I shared wary looks with Chambers, Bradley, Jules Huffington, and Lowell Parker. Jules, who sat closest to Roger with her beater's bat between her legs so she could rest her chin on it as she tried desperately to stay awake, spoke for us.

"Fair."

Roger nodded at her. "Alright, then. Cho, could you please calm down?"

"I-I-I'm f-fine," Cho blubbered. Lowell rolled his eyes and mouthed something to Jules, who nodded. Lowell and Jules were never particularly fond of Cho. Well, that wasn't fair. They loved Cho when we hung out as a team. We all loved each other when it was just our team, but some of our "outside" friends really irritated our other teammates. Bradley and Chambers were the typical perfect students of Ravenclaw that were driven insane by the lack of organization that my Weasley twins brought to homework. Jules's boyfriend was a Slytherin who was actually rather nice, but he did have quite a disdain for muggle-born students, which meant that Lowell, former reserve player and currently a starting beater, stayed the hell away from the couple even though Jules was easily his best friend on the team. And Jules and Lowell absolutely hated Cho's giggly band of friends. I never was a big fan of them, either, but I was much more tolerant of Cho's gaggle than they were. Now that most of them seemed to have abandoned her, though, instead of helping her deal with Cedric's death, they were noticeably kinder to her in the presence of others.

"If you say so," Roger shrugged. We simply did not have time to wait for Cho to calm down. Well, _we_ did, but Roger didn't. No, he had to spend the next hour regaling us with all the new strategies he had cooked up over the summer. Not that many of us stayed awake to listen to them. This was the kind of thing I imagined Angelina going through under Oliver Wood's reign, but Roger had always been a reasonable captain. Evening and weekend practices. Never mornings. Obviously, the match at the end of the following month was getting to him more than he let on.

"Alright, then," Roger announced. "Let's go try some of these."

"Woah, wait," Lowell held his hands up. "Right now?"

"Well, of course, right now," Roger waved dismissively. "When else would we do them?"

"Wait," Jules held her hand up. "Not that I don't love breaking a sweat before breakfast, but, _Cho would you shut up for a bloody second_," this only succeeded in making Cho sob louder (I patted her gently on the back), "but we're barely awake. Why not wait until this evening so nobody gets killed?"

Roger rolled his eyes. "Because, the sooner we start learning them, the sooner we'll have them down for the Hufflepuff match."

"Er, that's a lovely plan," Lowell frowned. "But…doesn't that seem a bit extreme? This isn't exactly the match that will decide the cup, is it? We can afford to wait until this evening to run them."

"Yeah," I nodded, "at least for safety's sake, Roger."

Roger rolled his eyes. "We _will_ be safe. We need all the edge we can get, and you're all excellent out there. You wouldn't be on the team otherwise."

"Well, there's a vote of confidence," Lowell wrinkled his nose. "Look, I'm not running your patterns right now just so we can even more thoroughly embarrass a team in total ruins."

"Could be worse," Jules grumbled. "He could have dragged you out of bed to bestow this honor upon you. OH WAIT!"

"Oy," Bradley intervened, "c'mon, do you want to win or not? It's still a match, Hufflepuff or otherwise."

Chambers shook his head. "It's the principal, mate. They're not going to play their best, and it's not fair to beat a team that isn't at the top of their game. Not to mention that Hufflepuff is being led by bloody Zacharias Smith, who couldn't lead a bunch of monkeys if he had a barrel of bananas."

"That boy is _such_ a twat," Lowell muttered.

"He's not a twat!" Jules shook her head. "You just don't know him." It was the first real opinion she had voiced. I assumed that, like me, she saw the points of both sides of the playing Hufflepuff argument. Or maybe, also like me, she just wanted to go back to bed and didn't have the energy to shout like the rest of them.

"Don't defend him," Lowell snorted, and Chamber shook his head at Jules in disgust. "Just because he's nicer than the Slytherins you spend your time with doesn't mean he's a living saint."

"We can't play down to them!" Bradley insisted before Jules could give Lowell an earful (wisely). "The last thing they want is to be mollycoddled. Think if it had been Roger, yeah? I'd hate it if everyone walked on eggshells around us."

Lowell shook his head, "Yeah, I want to play them fair, and yeah, I want to win, but that doesn't mean I think we should fly brand new patterns as the bloody sun is coming up."

"That's not what I'm suggesting!" Roger protested.

"Yeah, actually, it kind of is," I pointed out. Jules nodded as she pulled her strawberry blonde hair back into a loose ponytail.

"Look," she yawned, "The strategies are great. But if we fly this morning, someone's absolutely going to get killed, seeing as we all seem to hate each other anyway," she shot a glare at Lowell. "Let's call it quits for this morning, spend today calming down so we don't lose our heads, and have our practice tonight, eh? Without the bickering."

Roger studied the dissent in the room solemnly. Cho was still sniffling beside me. Lowell and Chambers couldn't have been more obviously fuming unless actual steam was rising from them. Bradley had slid away from Chambers and crossed his arms, disagreeing with the "principals" his best friend defended. Jules muttered to herself as she packed her things, intent to leave with or without Roger's permission.

"Yeah," he muttered finally. "It's nearly breakfast anyway. I'll see you all before dinner."

FGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGF

"There they are!" Fred beamed as I peeled away from Roger and Cho to drop into a seat at the Gryffindor table. "How was practice?"

"I got hit in the face with twelve, count them," I slammed a pile of orangey-red leaves on the table, "twelve leaves. In an hour. I hate quidditch."

"You love quidditch," George muttered as he counted the leaves. "There are only nine here."

"I brushed one off, ripped one to shreds and danced on its remains, and shoved the third down Roger's pants."

"Wwwwwhy?" Angie asked me slowly.

"For making me practice on a beautiful day. I had every intention of doing homework by the lake this evening, but instead I had to battle leaf demons."

"Doing homework?" Fred made a face. "Why would you do that? It's Friday."

"If I do my homework now, I can finish it through the end of term and not have to worry about it later!" I explained. Fred and George exchanged smirks.

"You are such a Ravenclaw," Lee Jordan shook his head. "Oy, what's wrong with Cho?"

I spun around to look at the Ravenclaw table where Cho Chang sat alone, sniffling into her pumpkin juice. "Nothing," I answered. "Probably just thinking about Cedric. Everyone pretty much clears out when she gets that way. Gotten fed up with her crying all the time."

"I've noticed that," Katie nodded. "Burst into tears in divination the other day because Trelawney told her she had suffered a great loss. Like she needs the Sight to know that! It's not even in the future! _I_know she's suffered a great loss. All of bloomin' England knows she's suffered a great loss."

"Listen," I pointed at Katie with my bread roll, "Sybil Trelawney doesn't deserve half the ridicule you people give her. The Sight doesn't just work on command, you know."

Lee snorted. "Every year, she tells a new student that they'll meet some horrible, grisly fate. Or do you forget how she screamed in terror when she looked at your tea leaves our first class?" Yes, Lee, I remembered that quite well. Apparently, you did not, or you would recall my reaction to it.

"Alright," I rolled my eyes. "So, she likes dramatics. Sometimes, she can be a crock of shit, yeah, but she's not the _biggest_ crock of shit to ever walk the halls of Hogwarts."

"Umbridge," George grunted as he stabbed a slice of ham.

"Oh, crock of shit doesn't even begin to cover it with her. She's a…"

Angie threw her hand over my mouth as Umbridge herself walked by, because, of course, George hadn't been finishing my thought; he'd been warning me that she was about to walk by. I glared at Umbridge's robes as she scanned the Great Hall with her nauseating smile. I still felt sick to my stomach when I thought about the scars on my best friends' hands. The pure terror on the young faces of the first year students as they studied their hands by the dying firelight of the Ravenclaw common room made me shake with anger every time I saw it just like I had in her first class. I hated that woman. I hated her as we read about defensive spells we weren't allowed to use. I hated her bright pink robes. I hated the kittens that meowed incessantly as she made me sit in her office just to "discuss my emotional state" in which I said nothing more than yes and no as she spewed overly elaborate phrases that made no sense. I hated her fake smiles and her "hem-hem"s and her bulging eyes and her toady face. I had never truly hated anyone before, but I hated her right to her very core. Which, by the way, was purely evil. Just for clarification.

When she was firmly seated at the professor's table, Fred and George turned to us and leaned forward conspiratorially. "Did you hear what Harry's planning?" George asked. Angie, Katie, Alicia, and I all shook our heads. Lee shoved food in his mouth and probably didn't hear.

"Some kind of defense club," Fred picked up. "Ron told us about it. Since that old bag isn't teaching us a bloody thing…"

"…and Harry's actually had to use real spells in real situations…"

"…they want to take the learning underground, so to say. Ron says there's going to be a meeting in Hogsmeade next weekend."

"The first trip?" Katie made a face. "But I had…"

"Cancel your date with Zacharias Smith," Angie rolled her eyes. "He's a twat."

"He's not a twat!" Katie defended. "He's sweet."

"No," I shook my head. "He's a twat. Everyone thinks he's a twat. You know, he's captain of the Hufflepuff quidditch team this year, and even _they_ all think he's a twat. You'll never find a quidditch player that will openly ridicule a fellow teammate, but if you talk to them long enough, you get the basic idea. Which is that he is a twat, if you were wondering."

"Hey, Mel," Fred grinned, "do you think he's a twat?" I cracked a smile.

"Did he even ask you out?" Alicia questioned. "Or is this a date you've dreamed up? Because I don't remember you mentioning this before."

"Oh," Katie turned a shade of red I had never seen anyone turn before, which surprised me considering how many gingers I willingly spent time with, "be quite, Alicia. I was just…we talk so much in the library about transfiguration….and…"

"Maybe he'll be at the meeting, too," Angie smiled sympathetically. "You never know."

"What do you think? D'you want to go?" George asked. It sounded as if the question was aimed to the whole group, and everyone else nodded and murmured their confirmation, but I knew by his eyes that he was specifically asking me. Going rogue was absolutely my style. I was all about dancing on the line between what was allowed and what wasn't, and this technically fell on the safe side of that line. But if Miss High Inquisitor caught us, there would be a hell to pay unlike any other. Her special quill would hardly compare. She'd probably throw ust up in front of the whole Wizengamot just because she could, maybe even make us spend time in Azkaban. If she didn't just kill us, which I hardly put past her, though I would never tell that to anyone else. They would probably just laugh at my dramatics.

_A good boy, pure of heart, well-loved by his peers, skilled at magic, and a true representative of the qualities we look for in a young wizard lost his life long before his time._

My jaw clenched as her words replayed in my head. She didn't know a damn thing about Cedric. Ceddy was loyal and good and true. He treated Cho like a queen. He helped me with my herbology papers when George wasn't around. He directed first year students that got lost and always had time to pick up the books of someone who had just been tripped. He would laugh at the worst of jokes just so the teller didn't feel like a failure. When Harry fell off his broom because of the dementors the year that Sirius Black escaped, Cedric wanted to replay the game because he knew it wasn't fair to catch the snitch when the other seeker had fainted. He asked everyone to stop wearing those Potter Stinks badges during the triwizard (mine was carefully tucked away somewhere safe). He was a good man. Umbridge didn't deserve to even think about him.

_…in these times, you must ask yourself this: Is this what my dear friend would want?_

Shows how much that bint knew about Cedric Diggory.

"Yeah. Yeah, that sounds absolutely brilliant," I nodded, and George beamed at me before attacking the roast beef.

This was _exactly_ what Cedric Diggory would want.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks you guys so much for reading and reviewing. It really means a lot that you're sticking with my story! Next chapter: <strong>_**Meeting in the Hogshead**_


	11. Meeting in the Hogs Head

When I woke up on the first weekend of October, I decided that I didn't want to get out of bed, much less go to Hogsmeade. It looked cold and blustery outside my window, and the thought of running around the wizard town keeping an eye on Fred and George as they ran their little mail-order joke shop business (which I was fairly certain operated on a certain level of illegality) was just too tiring for me.

Then, I remembered what else was scheduled to happen that day.

And I really desperately did not want to go to the Hogs Head to listen about the forming of Harry Potter's defense club. I wanted to be part of it, I wanted to stick it to Umbridge, but I also wanted to draw the curtains of my bed around me and spend all day in bed reading.

No such luck. Cho ripped my curtains open and jumped on me, and I would have screamed had I not been awake to hear her approach. She was entirely too excited for this meeting, and I shoved her off of me grumpily.

"Go away."

"I will," she promised. "But, first, does my hair look alright?"

"Your hair looks wonderful except for that big ugly face in the middle."

"You're terrible," Cho rolled her eyes. "I was going to wear my Tornados pin, but last time I did, Harry's friend gave me an awful time for it. Acted like I'd just started supporting them when they started winning."

"Who cares about Harry's friends?" I mumbled, fumbling around for a pair of jeans. Cho threw a dark blue v-neck sweater at me, and, by the time I pulled that over my head, she found one of my Ravenclaw scarves to help combat the October wind I'd be facing.

"I care."

"Why?"

Cho turned scarlet, and my eyes widened. Absolutely wrong. Cho Chang did not like Harry Potter. So many things about that were impossible. Number one, the girl still cried if you even implied Cedric's name. Number two, when did she even _talk_ to Potter? And three, wasn't there some kind of rule about dating my best friends' little brother's best friend? Revolting.

"Cho, sometimes I don't even know what to say to you," I grunted, grabbing my scarf from her. No way would I even pretend that I was alright with that. "I'll see you and Marietta at the meeting, yeah?"

"Yeah," she agreed. "See you there."

FGFGFGFGFGFG

The boys had split off from us to head to Zonkos. Typical. Heaven forbid they spend one hour without their precious pranks. I spent about ten minutes explaining why the Hogs Head was a breading pit of diseases that we should avoid (how hard would it be to catch up with Ron later, really?), but Angelina, Katie, and Alicia flanked me and forced me inside. A man at the bar with filthy bandages wrapping his head took a long swig of a smoking drink that looked somewhat deadly. I shrank close to Angie, certain that whoever was under those bandages would get me arrested somehow.

We were hardly the first people there. Hermione and Ron sat on either side of a rather irritated Harry, who gaped at Neville Longbottom and some other Gryffidnors, Cho and Marietta (gag-me), and a rather dazed-looking Luna. But we were hardly the last people to arrive, either. Both Creevey boys came in shortly after us, and I yanked Katie in front of me to block me from Colin, just to be safe. Ernie Macmillion, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Hannah Abbott, and Susan Bones came in to apparently represent Hufflepuff, and we all saw Katie's face fall when Zacharias didn't follow them. Then, three more Ravenclaws came (Anthony Goldstein, Michael Corner, and Terry Boot), and Ginny…with Smith. Katie brightened instantly, and I barely managed to suppress my groan. Fred, George, and Lee were, of course, the last ones to arrive. Once we all were settled with our drinks in front of us, Hermione stood up to give her most elegant speech to date.

"Er…Well – er – hi. Well…erm…well, you know why you're her. Erm…well, Harry here had the idea – I mean," she glanced back at Harry, who glared at her so darkly that I threw a fist in my mouth to keep from laughing, "I had the idea…" Oh, to know the story behind _that_.

"Suppose Harry's not too thrilled about this?" I whispered to Angie. She grinned.

"They probably never told him. Sounds like an evil Hermione plan, yeah?" I nodded. Yes, yes it did.

"-I want to be properly trained in Defense because…because…because Lord Voldemort's back."

I visibly flinched at the name, and George, who had wedged himself between Katie and me earlier, grabbed my arm either to steady me or to calm himself after hearing the name. You'd think we'd be used to it by now. Marietta shrieked and spilled her butterbeer all over her sweater, which made me smirk, and several other people had similarly dramatic reactions.

And then Zach went and did what he did best. Be a twat.

"Where's the proof You-Know-Who's back?"

"Well," Hermione tried reasonably, "Dumbledore believes it…"

"You mean, Dumbledore believes _him_."

"Spinning bat bottoms," I muttered, dropping my head into my hands and massaging my forehead. I really hated that boy sometimes. Why bother coming if you doubted even that? Well, obviously he was there because of Ginny Weasley, but still. He just had make a seen. Twat.

"What makes me say You-Know-Who's back?" Harry asked, staring Zach down intensely. "I saw him. But Dumbledore told the whole school what happened last year, and if you didn't believe him, you don't believe me, and I'm not wasting an afternoon trying to convince anyone."

"All Dumbledore told us last year was that Cedric Diggory got killed by You-Know-Who and that you brought Diggory's body back to Hogwarts. He didn't' give us details, he didn't' tell us exactly how Diggory got murdered, I think we'd all like to know-"

No, we would _not_! George took hold of my arm again, and I leaned into him to rest my head on his shoulder. I squeezed my eyes shut, too, as if that could make Zacharias disappear like a bad dream.

"If you've come to hear exactly what it looks like when Voldemort," I flinched, and George gave my upper arm a gentle, reassuring squeeze, "murders someone, I can't help you. I don't want to talk about Cedric Diggory, all right? So if that's what you're here for, you might as well clear out."

Thank you. I had never particularly liked Harry's temper before, but I simply adored it at that moment. Susan Bones asked if he could make a corporeal Patronus, which recaptured attention back to our original purpose. I grinned at the renewed enthusiasm in the room. Fred and George had told me about that particular event so I stopped being so terrified of Sirius Black, but no one else knew about Harry's escapades his third year. Then, Terry Boot brought up the Chamber of Secrets and the basilisk, and Neville the Sorceror's Stone. Faith had been restored in our potential leader.

"That's not to mention," Cho cooed, as if she was trying to make me puke, "all the tasks he had to get through in the Triwizard Tournament…"

Harry tried to be modest, of course. Tell us how much of it was luck, how much if it we could already do. There was something adorable about his modesty. He could be a shining star, face on magazines, doing whatever he pleased, but here he was, refusing to even take credit for the things we all knew he'd done.

"Are you trying to weasel out of showing us any of this stuff?"

Sometimes, I really wanted to hurt Zacharias. Muggle-style, roll up my sleeves, slug the boy.

"Here's an idea. Why don't you shut your mouth?" Ron snapped.

"Well, we've all turned up to learn from him," I doubted Zach had turned up for any such thing, "and now he's telling us he can't really do any of it."

"That's not what he said," Fred growled.

I pulled my head off of George's shoulder because he immediately tensed up and reached for something rather menacing in his Zonko's bag, making him a very uncomfortable pillow. "Would you like us to clean out your ears for you?"

"Or any part of your body, really, we're not fussy where we stick this," Fred finished. Angie leaned forward sharply to catch Fred's attention, and the two of them locked gazes until Fred consented to lean back grumpily in his chair.

Even though we agreed to the meetings, despite having three different quidditch practices to schedule around, I already had my doubts about this group. We didn't have a solid place to meet. Zach took every opportunity to show just little he believed in what we were trying to do. Even when we tried to pass the list around to sign our names on, Ernie balked when he considered what would happen if Umbridge found it.

We were a shambles. An absolute bloody shambles. Oh, if Cedric could see us now…

* * *

><p><strong> This one took a little longer than I intended, so sorry about that! Much of the dialogue is from Ch. 16 of Order of the Phoenix, because I wanted the scene to be the same but from her perspective. I don't claim to own any of this stuff. Only Mel is mine. <strong>

**Next chapter: **_**Happy Birthday to Me**_


	12. Happy Birthday to Me

_Though condemned I am to split you_

_Still I worry that it's wrong,_

_Though I must fulfill my duty_

_And must quarter every year_

_Still I wonder whether sorting _

_May not bring the end I fear._

_Oh, know the perils, read the signs,_

_The warning history shows,_

_For our Hogwarts is in danger_

_From external, deadly foes_

_And we must unite inside her_

_Or we'll crumble from within_

_I have told you, I have warned you. . . ._

_Let the Sorting now begin._

I awoke on a rainy, grey, dismal October 3rd with the song of the Sorting Hat from that year's opening feast ringing through my head as if left over from a dream. I stared at the ceiling for a long moment, replaying the warning several more times until I could practically envision the hat in front of me again. The changed song hadn't made much of an impact on me during the opening feast because I'd been so distracted by Roger talking about quidditch and Cedric's absence and Umbridge's interruption. But that particular morning, the hat's message settled in my stomach like a rock.

Happy birthday to me.

I threw my covers off, changed into my school uniform, grabbed _The Golden Cauldron_, and headed down into the common room to get some decent reading in until it was time to think about breakfast. The rest of the house wouldn't even be stirring for another few hours at the earliest, but I was far from sleep at that point.

It shouldn't have been the least bit surprising to see the bare feet of Luna Lovegood sticking up over the back of a chair in front of the fireplace when I entered the common room, but it was. She sat upside-down on the chair so the top of her head rested on the floor, the _Quibbler_ open in front of her face.

I loved that girl.

Made a mental note to tell Chambers and Bradley to return her shoes.

"Morning, Melbecka."

"Mornin', Loo…na," I forced a smile and hoped she couldn't tell I'd almost let her nickname slip. "What's got you up so early?"

"This is the best time to see perlumps," Luna answered simply, turning the page of the _Quibbler_.

"Right. Perlumps." Because everyone's heard of those…

"What are _you _doing awake?" she asked as I sat down on my favorite window seat. I shrugged even though she wasn't looking at me.

"Couldn't sleep."

"I understand the feeling."

"I'm sure you do," I muttered, swinging my feet up onto the cushions and snapping my book open loudly so she'd get the hint that our conversation was over. It was time to read. Not time to talk to a perlump hunter. Time to read.

"Happy birthday."

_The Golden Cauldron_ seemed to slip from my hands of its own accord, and I fumbled desperately to keep it from hitting the ground. Not only did I fail to hold onto my book, I nearly fell off the couch seat and had to throw a leg out to keep myself balanced. Luna seemed to notice neither my spontaneous acrobatics nor my book hitting the floor.

"How…how did you know it's my birthday?"

"Your friends broke in this day last year to surprise you when you came down from your dorm," she answered airily.

"That was a year ago!" I exclaimed, snatching my book back from the floor. "How do you remember that?"

Luna shrugged and turned the _Quibbler_ sideways to study something. "They might have been speaking about it the other day."

I sighed in relief. It was much less disturbing to think that Luna had been creeping around my friends than to imagine that she had the memory of an elephant. "You don't happen to know what they have planned, do you?"

"I'm not saying."

"Luuuunaaaa…"

"No need to whine," Luna insisted, cocking her head to the side and squinting. "I shan't tell you."

I hated that girl.

So, I snapped my book open and sent a scowl in her direction before starting on my morning's reading. I managed to devour a few chapters before Professor Flitwick came shuffling in, a large, rolled sign in his hands. He nodded at Luna and myself and stopped at our notice board.

He unrolled the massive sign, so large that it covered the entire board, and pointed his wand at it, muttering a spell through a yawn so that it hung itself. Without another word, or any really, Flitwick shuffled back out, probably to get another few hours of sleep before breakfast. It was, after all, still ungodly early.

But Professor Flitwick's morning activities were hardly at the top of my concerns as I absorbed the massive sign he had just bestowed on the common room. Educational Decree Number Twenty-Four.

_All Student organizations, societies, teams, groups, and clubs are henceforth disbanded._

My thoughts immediately leapt to quidditch. Surely she couldn't disband the quidditch teams! …Could she? This needed to be dealt with. Immediately. I left _The Golden Cauldron_ on the window seat, fairly certain no one would take a book that seemed to have something to do with potions. If they actually knew what a piece of smutty, illiterate garbage it was, they certainly would want nothing to do with it.

I took the steps to the boy's dormitory two at a time and burst through the door into Roger's room. It occurred to me once I was in there that I had no idea which bed held my quidditch captain; they all looked the same with the curtains closed. Thankfully, though, there was a giant Ireland National poster tacked to the wall, the occupants of which were whizzing by on their broomsticks as if it was not the middle of the night. That's why I always loved that team, the never-ending energy. And Roger's obsession with them, which bordered on the unhealthy, made it fairly easy to identify his resting place.

"Roger!" I exclaimed, flinging open the curtains. Other than a slight roll of his head, Roger Davies hardly reacted. So, I moved to plan b and leapt onto his bed. He yelped and jumped away from me, narrowly managing to stay on the bed.

"What the…Mel? Wha…what time is it?"

"Em…dunno. _She disbanded the quidditch teams!_"

"How do you not know what time…wait," Roger frowned and rubbed his eyes. "Who did what?"

"Umbridge. She passed this…decree because she's High Inquisitor, and it disbands all organizations, societies, teams…groups…oh, bloody hell." She knew. She knew about the meeting in the Hog's Head. She knew we were going behind her back, and she was trying to stop us. Blast that woman.

"She can't disband the quidditch teams! That's a Hogwarts tradition!" Roger insisted, sitting bolt-upright in bed. "She can't."

"It says you can ask her for permission to re-form. Looks like you'll have to put on your nice face."

"So will you," he pointed at me. "I'll ask her today, but we don't stand a chance if you cause trouble. For once in your life, keep your mouth shut. Stay out of her way, yeah?"

As much as I hated to admit it, he was right. One wrong move from me, and she'd punish all of Ravenclaw.

"Yeah," I nodded. "I will be the picture of perfection."

I left Roger to his sleep and tried to return to _The Gold Cauldron_ back in the common room, but I found it extremely difficult to concentrate on anything. My thoughts kept wandering to Educational Decree Number Twenty-Four. How did she know? Had someone told her? I wouldn't put it past Smith, but I found it hard to imagine even Zachatwatas tattling this early on. He was still trying to impress Ginny Weasley after all, and with Hermione Granger involved, there was bound to be some kind of punishment for a tattler. Made me almost hope he _had_ given us up, just to see what Granger'd done to him…

Finally, as other sleepy Ravenclaws made their way into the common room and stopped at the new bulletin, I knew it was a reasonable time to head down for breakfast. Once again, I left my book just lying about. Who cared, really? It would still be there.

In the Great Hall, I naturally took my spot at the Gryffindor table between the twins, but instead of a shower of birthday greetings, Fred and George whirled on me with, "Did you see?"

"She knows."

"But Harry says we're still doing it."

"Even the _prefects _are still in_,_" Fred cocked his head towards Hermione and Ron who sat a bit further down the table, the latter of which turned bright red and found particular interest in his porridge.

I was just about to say something when Hermione groaned at the group of people coming our way. We were hardly a stealthy group, this defense club I'd found myself in the middle of, as nearly all of them were making a beeline for the Golden Trio. Yeah, that certainly wouldn't attract any attention. None at all.

Hermione tried her best to shoo them away, and I left that drama to the fifth years. I had bigger things to deal with. At roughly that time, morning mail call began, and in the rush of owls, Wooster swooped towards me with my mother's typical birthday present. She knew how much I loved cards, so she always carefully crafted one that glowed delicately or played gentle music or read a poem in a gentle voice. I had quite a collection and often pulled them out after bad dreams or moments that particularly shook me. But before I could see what she had created for the celebration of my 18th year, I took one look at my owl and knew something was wrong.

"Angie?" I hissed across the table, thankful that neither twin noticed. Angelina raised her eyebrows at me, and I gestured to Wooster. His feathers were uncharacteristically ruffled, unusual for an owl that took such pride in his appearance (only I could find an owl with a penchant towards vanity), but my friend didn't seem particularly interested in this.

"What?"

"Look at him!" I insisted.

Angie scanned the owl carefully, then frowned at me. "What am I looking for?"

"Ucgh, you know what? Forget it," I shook my head bitterly. Someone had clearly intercepted my owl, but if no one else had any interest, then I would hardly be the one to tell them. Let them figure it out on their own. Not only was Umbridge on to the club, she was reading our mail. Let's hope the twins weren't making secret plans through post. Actually, I hoped they _were_. Served them right for forgetting what today was.

Not that I needed them to have a happy birthday. I could have loads of fun without them.

After I finished sulking.

When Angie snapped at Fred for stealing one of the sweets her mum sent, George took the opportunity to pass me something under the table. I frowned as he closed my fist around something wrapped in crinkled paper, and George leaned in to explain in a hushed tone.

"Eat one half in DADA, and try to aim at Umbridge for me. When you get out of class, eat the other half. It'll stop the puking."

A Puking Pastil? I didn't find it all that generous to give me one of your own mass-produced products for my birthday. Not a lot of thought in that one.

"Didn't think you'd want to sit through her class on your birthday."

I cracked a smile. No. No, I certainly wanted nothing to do with Dolores Umbridge on my 18th birthday. She could eat my socks. Or, in this case I suppose, smell my vomit.

"This is probably the sweetest birthday present you've ever given me," I whispered as Angie threw a piece of syruped pancake at Fred, who did not duck in time and took it right on the forehead. "Thank you."

"Least I could do," he shrugged, giving me that small smile I found it so hard to look away from. He brushed a bit of hair from my face to tuck it behind my ear, and my cheek tingled from where his fingertips had brushed along my skin. "Happy birthday, Mel."

If Fred had not chosen that moment to yank me in front of him as a human shield, I'm not quite sure what have happened. But Fred Weasley always could end a moment.

"Thanks. But, erm, I really need to behave in DADA or Umbridge won't let us reform the quidditch team," I shrugged, looking down at my plate intently to hide my blush. Angie nearly choked on her breakfast, and Katie punched her between the shoulders to dislodge the offending food.

"Oh, Merlin, you're right! It extends to quidditch! Harry!"

I laughed at Angelina's urgency. She really had become quite obsessed with the sport this year.

When breakfast was over, I slung my school bag over my shoulder and announced, "Well, time to face…"and my words morphed into a scream as arms wrapped around my chest and two hands grabbed both of my ankles. "Put me down!" I insisted, but Fred Weasley's evil grin showed that he and his twin had no intention of any such thing. "Angie!" My best friend widened her eyes innocently. "Make them stop!"

"Make them stop what?"

"_Angie!_"

"Relax!" George laughed, tightening his hold around my arms when I tried to swing my fist around to hit him. He was too smart for me, of course, and he and Fred had grabbed me so I couldn't do them any physical harm. Buggers. "It's your birthday!"

"We're giving you a day of luxury!" Fred beamed as the trio of dunderheads waltzed me out of the Great Hall.

"A day to stay off your feet."

"Feel relaxed and refreshed even through all your classes."

"I don't feel relaxed right now, Fred."

"That's because you're more high-string than a baby chimpanzee. You just need to enjoy life a little bit."

"You kidnapped me and are carrying me to Merlin-knows-where!" I protested.

"You know," George chuckled, "when you get upset, your voice gets all high and shaky. It's adorable."

"I've noticed that," Angie nodded. "Isn't it funny when she does that?"

"It's not going to be funny when I shove my wand up your arse!"

"Tch-tch," Fred clucked. "So angry. We just wanted to carry you to your first class, m'lady."

"Don't you dare 'my lady' me, Frederick!" I yelled, attracting the attention of several of the Ravenclaws my group had caught up to on our journey. "Just put me down!"

"If we put you down now, you'll hurt yourself," George pointed out. I let out a pathetic whimper as my neck was forced uncomfortably into my chest when the boys attempted the stairs. "Sorry," he apologized, quickly readjusting his grip so my spinal cord was not permanently ruined by my birthday present.

"Put me down. On. My. _Feet_."

"Oy, you could try being grateful, you know," Angie chided. "They haven't got anything else for you."

"We haven't," Fred and George agreed in annoying unison. Fred continued with, "We thought treating you like a queen would suffice."

"But this tantrum is probably more fun for us."

I rolled my eyes but couldn't help the grin spreading across my face. Of course they hadn't forgotten. They were my best friends, after all. They were just celebrating the only way the Weasley Twins knew how. By annoying the pants off of me.

And, blimey, did I love them for it.

* * *

><p><strong>I go back to school pretty soon (blech), but don't worry, I'll keep up with this. If I go a bit longer without posting, I assure you that it won't be because I forgot about this. Just extra busy. I'll definitely post once or twice more before I go, though. I've still got a week, after all.<strong>

**Next chapter: **_**Revelations of the Romantic Persuasion**_


	13. Revelations of the Romantic Persuasion

"You and I, Angie, had the two most romantic Yule Ball invites to ever grace the hallowed halls of any participating school," I sighed nostalgically, hugging a crimson pillow to my chest and breathing in the cinnamon scent that seemed unique to the Gryffindor common room. She snorted, so I continued to play it up. "Just remember!" I waved a hand dramatically in front of us. "Across a crowded room, the dulcet tone of Fred Weasley calls out to you the heartwarming words, 'Oi! Angelina! Want to come to the ball with me?', words no girl could turn down." Angie outright laughed at that.

"He was rather ridiculous, wasn't he?" she agreed through giggles.

"Could have been worse. I never told you how George asked me." This caught her attention. "I was running, _literally running_, from Care of Magical Creatures up to library so I could get a book for my Transfiguration essay, because I got this big burst of inspiration for how to make it really interesting. And you know excited I get about writing essays." Angie nodded solemnly. "So I'm running down the hall, narrowly missing people, and Fred and George were going the other way. Apparently he said my name a few times, but I didn't hear him what with all the running. So he reached out and grabbed my arm, which threw me off balance and nearly made me fall on my face, and my bag went flying and hit the poor girl walking in front of me, who was _also_ going to the library and kept shooting me dirty looks the entire time. But then he goes, 'Hey, we should go to the Yule Ball together. You want to?' and I was confused and still getting over almost falling on my face, so I asked him what he meant. So he comes back with, 'Well, since Fred and Angie are going together, and since we'll be spending the whole thing together anyway, and it'd be silly to go alone and spend it together, it makes sense to go together, right? So, um, I thought that, y'know, we should go together.' So I said yes and took my arm back and ran off to the library. And they didn't have the book I wanted, either."

"Oh, Mel!" Angie gave me that sympathetic grin you give to idiots that you still dearly love. "That _was_ romantic." I made a face at her. "Well, it was sweet, at least! I think he was trying to properly ask you as a date, but you were positive it was just as mates, so he just played it off that way to save himself the embarrassment."

"Oh, come off it," I wrinkled my nose at her. "The Weasley twins are hardly ones to hide their feelings."

"Fred doesn't," she agreed. "But George is shy! If you agreed to go with him as mates, he's not going to correct you."

She had a point, of course. George had always been the shy twin; while Fred shoved Puking Pastils on first years as 'advertising', George sat quietly nearby to observe their reactions. But just because she was right on that point didn't mean she knew the inner workings of George's brain. I would have known if he had meant to ask me out properly.

"Please," I made a face. "That's as ridiculous as implying that you would snog Fred."

Angie raised her eyebrows and opened her mouth to say something, but then she seemed to think better of it and just shrugged at me. Shit.

"Angie, that's ridiculous, right?" Still nothing. I sat on my hip so I could face her. "I am going to ask you this once, and you are going to answer me honestly or I'll steal your shoes. Did you kiss Fred the night of the Yule Ball?"

"Mel, you don't really want to know that."

"Oh, I absolutely don't," I agreed, "but I _have_ to know. Answer the question."

"Yes," Angie rolled her eyes and tossed her hands up, "I…kissed Fred."

Not good enough. I knew her too well to think that was the end of this. "Angie, did you do _more_ than kiss him?"

"If you think I slept with him, I'll hurt you."

Well, _that_ was a relief. I wasn't sure my brain could handle that mental image. "I didn't ask that, but since you brought it up, did you do something in between snogging and…_that_?"

"Mel!" she hissed, looking around as if she expected the entire Gryffindor common room to suddenly fill with people at 3 in the morning. "…Eh…mah…maybe."

"OHMIGOD!" I squealed with a combination of shock, excitement, and mild disgust. "YOU MADE OUT WITH FRED!"

"Melbecka Rose, would you be quiet?" Angie snapped. She pulled the pillow out from my arms and hit my torso with it. I grabbed the pillow and didn't let go when she tried to take it back, so she let me keep it clutched to my chest once again.

"Were you fully clothed?"

"Was I…Merlin, Mel, _really_?" Angie twisted her face. "You don't want to know that."

"Yeah, but if roles were reversed, you'd have to know how serious things were, and don't even try to deny that."

Angie considered this. "Yes, I was fully clothed."

"Was _he_?" Before she could answer, I squeezed my eyes shut and buried my face in the pillow in hopes that it would protect me from the answer.

"…Mmmmmmmmmostly..."

I let out a pig-like squeal. "Below the waist?"

"Fully clothed," she assured.

"…Above the waist?" I whimpered.

No answer. I ripped my head up from the pillow to look at the faraway grin on Angie's face. I was just about to repeat the question when she answered, "We might've lost that bit somewhere."

"Oh, Angie, that's _disgusting_. You not only got all…hot and heavy with _Fred effing Weasley_, you had to take his shirt off, too? Tramp."

"Oh-ho, really? Don't start calling me names, because two can play that game." True enough. "What about this even bothers you? It's not like it's happened since then. It was strictly a one-time deal. If you want him, he's all yours."

"Wo-hoah, no, that's not at all where this is going," I shook my head. "Nice attempt to deflect, though. I'm just…amazed, and slightly horrified. I never thought…A few years ago, I would've bet my Gringott's vault on you marrying Oliver Wood."

"Oliver?" Angie wrinkled her nose. "The man has an unhealthy obsession with a game."

"And is also a might more sculpted than our beloved dynamic duo. You know I love them dearly, but Oliver Wood has one hell of a chest."

Angie laughed at me. "Maybe I just knew him too well to look at him that way. Nothing would _ever _happen there. Just like nothing would ever happen between Fred and me."

"Do you wish there was something happening between Fred and you?" I prompted. As much as my stomach clenched at the idea, I was still enough of a teenage girl to want to see my best friend all girly and giggly over a boy.

"Stop," Angie rolled her eyes, but I could just make out the blush on her cheeks. "You know he's my mate."

"Ah, yes, but you wish he was the _other _kind of mate."

"Melbecka Rose, you are disgusting," she shook her head, but laughed despite herself. "Do you wish something was happening between you and George?"

Even though I should have expected her to turn the conversation on me, it still made me stop in my tracks. Angie looked at me with an expectant smirk on her face that only made her question more irritating.

"George and I wouldn't work."

"Of course you would. You know you would. And you didn't really answer my question, which means you didn't _want_ to answer the question, which means you were embarrassed by your answer, which means you're in love with him."

"What?" I exclaimed. "What in Merlin's name made you reach that conclusion?"

"Mel," Angie smirked condescendingly, "I know you. You're as much in love with George as I am with Fre…shit."

"Ah-HA!" I exclaimed, rolling onto my knees and throwing my hands up in the air. The pillow flew to the floor with my sudden movement, but I was too excited to notice and Angie was too embarrassed. "So you admit it!"

FWFWFWFWFWFW

I didn't realize I'd fallen asleep on the couch by the fire in the Gryffindor common room until someone plopped onto the couch dangerously close to my feet and another body slammed against the armrest by my head. I pretended that I wasn't scared senseless by the intrusion, hoping that it was just some younger students curious about the Ravenclaw in their common room.

I should have known better.

Instinctively, I could tell there was a face next to mine the moment he moved his head, and it made me nervous. I wanted to open my eyes to see who it was, but I would not give him the satisfaction.

"Me-el…Meeeeeeel…Melbecka…" When I didn't react, he grabbed my shoulder and shook me gently. "Melbecka Harrrrpeeeeerrrrr…_Melbecka!_ Mel. Mel. MelMelMel. MelMel…_MelMelMelMel!"_ I yelped as he shook me quickly, and the boy at my feet grabbed my legs so I didn't flail and kick him. This only made me more frantic, and I threw a fist towards my attacker, who laughed and ducked.

"Fred Weasley!" I exclaimed, kicking my legs free of George's grasp. "Go away!"

Fred grinned and ducked his head below the armrest so I couldn't hit him. George leaned away from my feet as I rolled onto my stomach to reach over the armrest and land a solid thwack with my palm between Fred's shoulder blades.

"Did you sleep here all night?"

"Yup," I grunted, twirling onto my backside and scooting towards George so Fred could sit next to me. "Did _you_ sleep here all night?"

"We live here," Fred reminded me. "You live somewhere else, last we checked."

"Do you regularly check on where I live?"

"Do you regularly sleep where _we_ live?" George countered.

"Is it a serious issue that I slept on this couch?" I frowned as Angie came down the staircase to the girls' dormitories. "I fell asleep here. It happens." Angie rolled her eyes at me, probably wishing she'd woken me up after we both fell asleep on this couch after our night of revelations. Obviously, she woke up sometime during the night and hauled herself to bed. Nice of her to wake me and let me go back to my bed...

"I think it's particularly hysterical. You look," Fred reached over to ruffle my hair, and I wrinkled my nose and put up absolutely no fight, "like a scruff."

"I hate you, Fred Weasley." I reached for his stomach, but he smacked my arm away. A sure declaration of war. I tried to swoop in with my other hand, but he was too quick for me and grabbed both my wrists to wrestle me away. I laughed as I fought to hit him and he fended me off.

"Must you?" George rolled his eyes. "It's _early_."

"Sor-ry, Mr. Grumpkins. Why's it bother you so much?" I asked George. I let my arms go limp, and Fred let me go, rolling his eyes at his brother.

"Jus' woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning," George mumbled, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with the heel of his right hand.

"Mate, you went to bed on the wrong side," Fred made a face. "Disgustingly late, too."

"Didn't realize I had a bedtime, Mummy Dearest."

"What's wrong, George? Catch your reflection in the mirror and realize you're still a ginger?" I quipped. George offered a half-smile and pushed my head away from him playfully.

"Very funny, Mellie." Curse him. "I was just worried that I might not hear your angelic voice this morning. Thankfully, you never go home, so I needn't have fretted."

"Aw!" Angie beamed in a purposely too-sweet voice that made Fred laugh. I could have killed her and actually seriously considered if my wand was positioned to send a hex her way without either of the twins noticing. Alas, it was not. "Isn't that _sweet_, Melbecka?"

"Yes, Angelina," I said through a fake smile. "Because George is always sweet. Fred, however, is a prat."

"Excuse me?" Fred faked offense. "I'm not the one that slept on the couch of a common room that isn't even mine. Or decided not to go to sleep until four in the bloody morning and woke the whole dormitory up in the process."

"Oy," George snapped his fingers and turned the motion into a point at his brother, "it was 3:30, and you were the only one that woke up because you couldn't stop thinking about new Skiving Snackboxes."

"Speaking of, Melbecka, dearest…" When Fred smiled at me like that, I knew trouble was in store. I looked to Angie for help, but she leaned back on her chair to watch. "You wouldn't happen to know a potion to remove boils?"

"We're at a bit of a loss for the 'resolution' end of the candy and don't want to try it before we at least have _something_ that might work."

"And you're just the girl that could help us."

"That depends," I grunted, shrugging out of the arm Fred had draped across my shoulders.

"On what?" George asked.

"How big would my cut of the profits be?"

"Really?" Fred sighed. "Isn't helping our business venture good enough?"

"Think of how light your heart will feel!" George added.

"Yeah, and your pockets!" Angie added.

"Don't you influence her," Fred pointed. "She doesn't need your opinion."

Angie laughed. "Oh, Fred," she grinned as she stood up. She ruffled his hair and offered a hand to me, which I took and used to pull myself to my feet. As I brushed myself off so we could make a sweeping exit from the twins, she said, "In my opinion, you boys need all the help you can get."

I shook my head. "Besides, I'm swamped with schoolwork and quidditch. But, if I get some time, I'll see what I can do. Deal?" Like that was going to happen. Let them figure it out on their own.

"You're the best!" Fred beamed as Angie and I headed for the portrait hole.

"Hey, Mel?" I turned at George's voice to see him leaning his head on the back of the couch so his head faced straight up at the ceiling and his eyes were rolled up to look at me. "You remember that deal we made?" I stared at him blankly. Angie looked between us giddily and Fred stared absently at the fire, probably thinking about this candy. "About our summers?"

Oh. That deal. I tell him how I'm coping with Cedric's death, and he tells me about what he did this summer. I thought he'd forgotten about that.

"I already know what you did this summer. You and Fred made your grand joke shop plans."

Fred snorted. "Is that all you think we did this summer? You really think too little of us." Angie rolled her eyes at Fred's interruption.

"It's not about that, mate," George muttered to his brother before looking back at me. "Is that deal still on?"

I hated Angelina. If she hadn't gone on about how sweet he was the previous night, I wouldn't have noticed the boyish expectance in his eyes or the careful way he worded everything so there was absolutely no pressure on me. It was her bloody fault he looked so particularly adorable with his hair hanging back off of his face and his eyes wide and his maroon long-sleeved shirt wrinkled at the shoulders.

"Yeah," I muttered. "It's still on."

Angie grinned as if she had something to do with me going along with a deal she didn't know anything about. She knew better than to ask me about it, though, as we headed to breakfast, because that would not have ended well.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading and reviewing, everyone. I love hearing your feedback, good or bad, so if you've got anything to say about the story, drop me a review. I go back to school this weekend, so if my posts are a bit sporadic in the coming weeks, that'll be why. I'll do what I can!<br>**

**Next chapter: **_**Sultry Breezes and Moldy Cupboards**_


	14. Sultry Breezes and Moldy Cupboards

_It cannot be seen, cannot be felt,__  
><em>_Cannot be heard, cannot be smelt,__  
><em>_It lies behind stars and under hills,__  
><em>_And empty holes it fills,__  
><em>_It comes first and follows after,__  
><em>_Ends life, kills laughter._

I rolled my eyes as George frowned at the knobless door that led to the Ravenclaw common room. He might be stumped, but this one was too easy. The eagle-shaped knocker on the door had nearly a dozen differently worded riddles all with the same answer; it was practically a default for Ravenclaws if we got stumped.

"Darkness," I muttered lazily, and the door swung open for us to enter.

George perched awkwardly next to me on the semi-circular window seat of the Ravenclaw common room. For as much time as I spent up in their house, my Gryffindor friends never spent more than a few moments here. Luna Lovegood sat by the fire with the latest issue of the _Quibbler_ open on her lap and her eyes crossed as she intently stared at the flames. Bradley and Chambers sat on the floor behind the couch she was on, several dusty library tomes and parchment and quills spread out in front of them as they worked on essays that made them grin like the schoolboys they were. Ravenclaws and homework. Like kids in a candy store.

"Oy." My two friends looked up and waved greetings at me. "Take this upstairs, yeah?"

"What?" Bradley made a face. "No! It's our common room, too."

"You owe me," I tried. I wasn't entirely sure he _did_ owe me, actually, but maybe he'd think up a scenario where he might owe me something or other and would leave.

"Do not." Damn. "But, now _you'll_ owe _us_!" Double damn. "Oy, Loony, if you want Mel to owe you one, clear out!"

"Bradley!" Chambers hissed, hitting his best mate for using Luna's not-so-secret nickname. Bradley shrugged and looked not the least bit sorry for his slip as my teammates stacked their books and disappeared upstairs. Luna, too, grabbed her _Qiubbler_ and headed for the stairs, pausing only to inform me that I didn't really owe her anything because she actually felt quite tired now anyway, thank you.

"Well, I always knew you could empty a room," George smirked, leaning back against the window. I rolled my eyes. "This is a brilliant room. Wish I'd come down here more often."

"I never stopped you," I pointed out. "My other friends would come here all the time."

"Mel," George smirked and licked his lips to buy himself a little time as he figured out the best wording, "your other friends are Ravenclaws. They live here."

"Not them," I smacked his arm. "The Hufflepuffs. Like, y'know, like Cedric."

I'd secretly hoped we'd never actually get to that topic. Even though I'd promised, I really didn't want to have some big heart-to-heart about him. Not just yet.

"You miss him." It wasn't a question, but I nodded my head anyway. "Why didn't you write over the summer?"

"Apparently, you wouldn't have answered anyway."

"I _would_," he protested. "Fred and I didn't write to anyone else because we were busy getting the mail-order business going and, well, there were things we…couldn't talk about, but if you'd written, I would have answered."

"What couldn't you talk about?"

"Don't deflect," he ordered. "It's not like you to shut yourself off like that. What happened?"

I leaned back against the cool glass of the window and pulled my feet up onto the dark blue cushion to hug my knees. "I had the biggest crush on Cedric third year. Even a bit fourth year." George flinched in surprise. "Got over it, of course, but I always loved him. Not, not like that, but, y'know, like a big brother." George nodded slowly and ran a hand through his hair as I continued. "Everyone in this whole bloody school acted like he was their hero last year, like they were mates and did homework together and visited each other on holidays and sent letters over the summer and all that, but he and I actually _did_ do all those things. Everyone else lost the _idea_ of the perfect friend, but I actually lost _him_. No one else was there when he got mesmerized by veelas at the quidditch world cup. I was; I never let him live that down." Fred and George had been rather upset that I'd turned down their invitation to the cup to go with the Diggory's instead last summer, but as it had opened the door for Harry to come, they'd gotten over it pretty quickly.

"And I went with his family to Machu Picchu before fifth year, remember?" I'd sent Fred and George postcards and pictures every time my owl got back from delivering the last lot I'd sent; it was the best month of my life. "Ceddy and I went out on our own and ended up in the middle of this muggle tour thing; he tripped going up these overgrown steps and twisted his ankle, and his parents weren't around, so he spent the rest of the tour hobbling around and cursing me under his breath as if the whole thing had been my idea. His dad nearly killed me for that, always was so obsessed with Cedric's wellbeing…"

I trailed off, realizing that Amos Diggory would never again get the chance to worry about whether or not Cedric was alright. He'd never be concerned over how Cedric was portrayed in the newspapers or how well he did in school or if he won the latest quidditch match again.

George placed a hand on my knee and squeezed gently to bring me back to focus. "It's alright to mourn him, you know. We all know you miss him. No need to be strong on our account."

"I know," I muttered, lacing my fingers through his absently. George gave my hand a tight squeeze, and I returned it and refused to loosen my grip. Thankfully, he didn't let up, either, and something about the pressure made me feel calmer, supported. "But everyone else has put it behind them."

"Because no one else knew him like you did. No one else ran up to him in the halls and demanded piggy back rides to class, Mel." I snorted, remembering how very much Cedric hated when I did that. He always complied, though, since I only ever did it with classes we had together. If I'd ever tried to make him late, I'm sure he would have tossed me off. Friendship meant a lot to him, but so did getting to class on time. "You have every right to miss him."

"I don't want to be like Cho and cry every time I hear his name."

George snorted. "I know she's your friend, but Cho Chang is a bit like an injured baby rabbit."

"George!" I exclaimed, hitting him in the chest with our joined hands. "That's terrible!" Terribly funny, maybe. She did sort of have that timid, easy-to-frighten nature to her, and I imagine that a bunny in danger would make much the same noise as Cho when she got upset, that same little squeaky, squealy cry. "Don't say that about her!" I ordered more so that I didn't think of Cho with floppy bunny ears than because of the insult to my friend. I never claimed to be honorable; that was always Cedric's place.

"You think it's funny."

"But it's _rude_."

"Ah, yeah, but it made you smile."

"Your goal in life should not be solely to make me smile. Be nice to my friends. Even if they're a bit…eccentric."

"Only this once" George rolled his eyes. I freed my hand from his, immediately missing his warmth, and hugged my knees again. "I suppose it's my turn, right?"

"Right," I nodded firmly. "If your summer was not entirely dedicated to mail-order Weasley Wizard Wheezes, what exactly were you doing?"

George looked around the common room quickly, and, when he was sure it was empty, he leaned close to me and dropped his voice down. "Have you ever heard of the Order of the Phoenix?"

"No," I wrinkled my nose. "What's that supposed to be? Some club for dunderheads like you and Fred?"

He rolled his eyes. "No, it's not, thank you very much. It's a group dedicated to stopping You-Know-Who." I felt my eyes widen, and George nodded at the disbelief on my face. "I guess it started the first time _he_ was around, and they've started again now that he's, well…" George ran his hand through his hair, "back. My parents are part of it, so're Bill and Charlie. I spent my summer at their, well, headquarters, I s'pose you could call it."

"But…I sent you that letter. Wooster…" I glanced around as if my owl was in the common room to confirm that he had delivered my letter to the Burrow instead of the headquarters of some secret league of feathers. Wooster was in the owlrey, of course, and probably wouldn't have been on my side, anyway. I don't think that owl particularly liked me all that much… "You were at the Burrow."

"Was not," George smirked. "We did get your letter; that's how we remembered to pack Ron's dress robes and wake up Harry and all that. It's a good thing you sent it." I knew the Weasley family too well; every year, I sent a letter to arrive the evening before the Hogwarts Express trip reminding my twins of all the things the family had mucked up the year before or had a tendency to do. It started after spending the final weekend with them before our second year and seeing the chaos that was the Weasley family leaving for Hogwarts. I never let them leave without proper preparation anymore.

"Yeah, but…how'd…Wooster…"

"You're really hung up on this owl thing, aren't you?" George laughed, rubbing my shoulder to calm me down before I got too agitated. "You know how owls are; they just seem to _know_ where people are. And we were _not_ at the Burrow."

"Right. You were at…headquarters," I said slowly. George nodded. "Because your parents are part of some Organization of Birds to fight You-Know-Who."

"The Order of the…" he paused to double-check that the common room was empty, "The Order of the Phoenix. And, yes, they are. There are others, too, more than I know of. They wouldn't really tell us all that much."

"Shocking."

"Watch it," he warned. "Professors Moody and Lupin and my parents and some people from the ministry and this really neat bloke that got me and Fred all these…"

"Stop," I held my hand up to silence him. "Are _you_ part of this group?"

George's face darkened. "No, mum won't let us. While they were having secret meetings, we had to clean the house." I snorted. "Yeah, you go ahead and laugh. It was infested with every creature listed in _Magical Beasts and Where to Find Them_, I swear. Doxies in the drapes, boggarts in the closets…there was even this portrait that would scream at you if you made too much noise in the hallway. Not to mention that the cupboards were just plain moldy. Disgusting, really. And there was the most wretched house elf you've ever laid eyes on. His whole goal in life was to have his head shoved on a pike like his mother's was." I made a face. "Seriously. There actually was a display of elf heads on sticks."

"Lovely," I wrinkled my nose. A far cry from the sultry breeze that drifted through the open window of my second-story bedroom as I wallowed in self-pity. "So, they're studying You-Know-Who to figure out how to fight him?" George nodded. "How do I join?"

"Well, yeah, see, it's not that easy. First, mum was all, 'You have to be of age'," I resisted the urge to laugh at his spot-on Molly Weasley impression. "Then, when Fred and I reminded her that we _were_ 17, she got all, 'You have to be out of school', and I'm sure once we are out of school, she'll make up something like, 'You have to be able to touch your nose with your tongue' or something. Anything to keep us out."

I laughed and resisted the urge to point out that not only could I touch my nose with my tongue, but so could Fred, which meant George most likely could as well. It was a tad beside the point, after all.

"That sounds like your mother," I agreed. "Always over-protective."

"Yeah, well," his face contorted like he'd eaten a sour grape, "it's bloody irritating. Fred and I have just as much right to know what's going on as anybody else. If You-Know-Who is going to make a move, I want to stop him. I want to fight. I'm not a child just because I like a bit of fun."

No, of course he wasn't. He was more of a man than most people I knew, with a heart much too big and a determination worthy of Godric Gryffindor himself. George _should_ fight with the Order. He would fit in well with them, planning and protecting and fighting the good fight.

My eyes welled up just thinking about it. Thinking of George fighting Death Eaters, sitting around a table in a house infested with doxies and boggarts as Remus Lupin and Mad-Eye Moody discussed their latest plan, felt so overwhelming. We weren't children anymore. The young, terrified eleven-year-olds that stood shaking in the Great Hall with wide eyes and trembling hearts, waiting for their names to get called for the Sorting, were long gone. We were legal adults now, living in a world on the verge of war. I had lost a dear friend, George's parents were part of a group that made them a prime target to be killed. Where had time gone?

"Hey," George leaned towards me suddenly and cupped my cheek in his hand so he could wipe my lone tear away with his thumb. "What's that for?"

"N-nothing," I blubbered, nuzzling my face into his hand. "Just…wh-where did we…look at us. When did we grow up?"

George choked out a laugh, a bit too concerned over my sudden Cho-like sniveling to actually be amused. "Ridiculous, isn't it?" He ran his thumb along my cheek rhythmically, and I found the motion extremely calming. "Since when do we think about fighting the evil forces of You-Know-Who?"

"They killed my dad."

George's thumb stopped and hovered just above my cheek. I kept my gaze down, not particularly wanting to see what emotion played on his face. Maybe I had surprised him by bringing up my father; maybe he'd forgotten that my father had been killed by Death Eaters. Maybe he'd thought only Cedric's death played on my mind.

I certainly had. My father rarely crept into my thoughts.

"Oh, Mellie," he breathed, wrapping both of his arms around me and pulling me to his chest. I threw my arms around him and buried my face in the warmth of his shirt, taking in a deep, shaky breath. He didn't say anything more, and I was thankful for that. I didn't want him to.

I just wanted him to hold me, keep me safe in his arms. I needed, just for a moment, to be reminded that I still had my George. No matter how old we were or how dark the times might be, George was still there.

At least that much had not changed.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for everyone who's added this as one of their story alerts. It's got a lot, and that feels pretty good!<strong>

**Next chapter: **_**Gryffindor vs. Slytherin**_


	15. Gryffindor versus Slytherin

"Professor Snape. Professor Snape!"

Severus Snape, as usual, completely ignored what I had to say. He was much too busy to listen to me, of course. He had thirteen other students to ignore as well. How could a man be expected to listen to anyone with so many students not to listen to?

"Professor Snape, Alicia didn't use a…what'd he call it?" I asked the third year Hufflepuff girl next to me, but remembered on my own before she could answer. "Hair Thickening Charm. Alicia probably doesn't even know what that is." Mental note: apologize to Alicia for insulting her intelligence. Though, she probably didn't… "Everyone knows it was Miles Bletchley! We all saw him hex her!"

Professor Snape did not so much as raise his eyebrows at my accusation. My fellow eyewitnesses to Alicia's misfortune mumbled amongst themselves and began filing out, but I stood my ground. It was exactly like Snape to ignore his team's blatant cheating, but that didn't mean I had to make it easy for him. I let the other students pass around me as I stared him down. Several minutes after everyone else left, which felt like an eternity in the dead silence that sat between us, Snape spoke without looking up from the parchment on his desk.

"I am rebrewing your potion, Miss Harper. The first attempt at results yielded…nearly nothing of value. I have hopes that in one lunar cycle something mildly amusing might come of this."

"Th-thank you." I certainly hadn't expected that. In fact, I'd forgotten about the potion I'd brought to him the first week of school. It completely amazed me that he had not. "You know, it really _was _Miles."

Snape didn't look up, and I didn't press the matter. It was time for me to leave. I could already hear a stampede of footsteps coming down the hall, and I had no particular desire to walk through a herd of fifth year boys to get back to my friends. Especially not Slytherin ones.

FGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFG

"Must they sing the whole bloody time?" Roger grumbled, tightening his scarf around his neck. Cho, sitting on his other side, huffed and tightened her sweater around her, confirming she was also getting irritated with Slytherin's latest attempt at organized degradation.

"Poor Ron," I murmured as the quaffle went sailing through Gryffindor's rings. For as much as I loved to taunt the youngest Weasley boy, he was still the little brother of my best friends, which made him a little brother to me. I loved wittle Wonny. I really did.

"Poor _Gryffindor_," Roger muttered. "He's a bloody terrible keeper. Why Angelina saddled herself with that…"

"I'm sure he was marvelous in try-outs. It's probably all nerves," Cho interrupted sharply. "And that bloomin' song. Merlin, will they _ever_ get bored?"

"Fat chance," I grumbled. We leaned forward to share a look in front of Roger, bonding over what a git he could be sometimes. "This isn't right. Slytherin and Gryffindor have always been competitive, but this is a whole new level. What is it about Quidditch that makes people so bloody irritating?"

George swung dangerously close to the Ravenclaw stands to wallop a bludger directly at Warrington, one of the Slytherin keepers. He paused momentarily and turned his gaze towards the stands, searching for someone. Searching for me. When our eyes met, there was nothing I want to do more than cast a silencing spell on every bloody Slytherin in Hogwarts. There were some things George would never tell me, but in that moment I could see in his eyes, clear as day, that George was hurting. I could see the frustration, too, in his clenched jaw even as he tried to hide it with a small smile. I tried to offer one in return, something reassuring to remind him that a Slytherin was just a git with daddy issues that needed a swift kick in the rear, but it was at that moment that a huge roar went up from the stands. Roger leapt to his feet and threw his fists in the air, forcing us to figure out what just happened as the Slytherins fell silent.

"We won?" I asked incredulously, leaping up and grabbing Roger's arm. He nodded, still screaming. "We won!"

Even though we weren't meant to, I ran down out of the stands to get onto that pitch. Technically, as a player, I could get away with being on the pitch after a game if I said I was helping with equipment, but Hooch still glared at me as I rushed up to my friends amongst the jeers and angry shouts of the crowd. Harry lay flat on his back, gasping for breath, as Angie rushed at him and Hooch made a beeline for the offending Slytherin beater. George saw me coming and beamed at me, opening his arms so I could run to him and get caught in a sweeping hug. He spun me around, laughing in my ear and setting me down nearly in the same spot so Fred could grab me from behind and do the same thing.

But our moment was ruined, as our moments often were, as Fred and George both noted the heated argument erupting between Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. Something about that song. That blasted song. Fred unwrapped his arms from me and gave Angie an absent-minded one-armed hug as she warily watched him stare at the younger boys.

"Leave it," she urged, taking his arm. "Leave it, Fred, let him yell, he's just sore he lost, the jumped-up little…"

"-but you like the Weasleys, don't you, Potter?" Malfoy continued, and I quite got the urge to smack the boy myself. "I supposed when you've been dragged up by Muggles even the Weasleys' hovel smells okay-"

Harry grabbed George while Alicia and Katie joined to help with Fred, who was about to tear across the pitch to throttle Malfoy. Deciding they had enough people, I took George's arm, and he whipped his head around.

Our eyes met for the second time that hour, but this was much different. The first time, during the match, he had needed me. This time, he wanted me to go away. His eyes were darker than normal and glinted dangerously as he panted for breath.

"Mellie, let go," he warned.

"George…" I began, but he shook his head and tugged his arm free as gently as he could with the anger coursing through him.

"Get Fred."

I held his gaze a moment more, and he offered that same tight, half-smile he always gave me when things weren't all right, were nowhere near all right, but he didn't want me to worry. That smile that I hated so much. Still, I looked at Fred, and saw that Angie, Alicia, and Katie were fighting a losing battle. They needed me more than Harry did. I lunged for Fred's waist and held fast just as he managed to throw Katie off of his arm. Just in time.

"Or perhaps you can remember what _your_ mother's house stank like, Potter, and Weasley's pigsty reminds you of it-"

Katie, Alicia, Angie, and I watched in horror as Harry let go of George. We let out some strangled shouts to stop them, but it took our combined strength to hold Fred back. The joy of a few moments ago was replaced by pure panic. What were they going to do? How badly were they going to hurt Malfoy? What was Umbridge going to do to them for it?

The entire school was involved in the fight, cheering and jeering until Madam Hooch finally intervened. George's lip was so swollen that I could see it from where we stood, still fighting against Fred. Malfoy's nose was clearly broken with blood smeared across his face as he curled up into a ball and whimpered pathetically. The boys were marched away, and only when Snape collected Malfoy did we dare to let Fred go. Angie was hesitant, though, and waited for the three of us to let go before she did. Without a word to any of us, Fred threw her grasp off, collected his broom, and marched away.

"Fred!" Angie called after him, but he didn't even slow his stride. "Fred…"

I reached for her shoulder, but Angie shrugged away from me and watched helplessly as Fred Weasley walked away.

FGFGFGFGFGFGFGFG

"Banned…" Angelina repeated slowly. "No seeker and no beaters…What on earth are we going to do?"

So much for winning the match. The Gryffindor common room was filled with angry faces and heated murmurs. A girl in the corner was furiously sketching the Slytherin symbol, crumbling it into a ball, and chucking it at the wall. Most just sat around despondently.

I sat by the fire with the team, minus Ron who had vanished after the match, balanced on the armrest of the couch with one leg curled against me and the other swinging lazily through the air so it brushed ever so gently against George's pant leg. He'd wrapped an arm around my waist to help me balance, and I'd laced my fingers through his reassuringly as he and Harry recounted their story to us.

"And banning Fred when he didn't even do anything!" Alicia fumed, punching her leg so hard that she winced from the impact.

"It's not my fault I didn't," Fred glowered, eyes flicking towards Angie and back at the fire so quickly that I nearly missed it. I must have tensed because George squeezed my hand soothingly as if that would make this Fred/Angelina rift all better. "I would've pounded the little scumbag to a pulp if you lot hadn't been holding me back."

"I'm going to bed. Mel…" Angie announced quickly and turned her head maybe a quarter of the way towards me as she headed for the stairs to her dormitory, "you staying tonight?"

I hadn't intended to stay, no, but I could tell by her dejected tone that I really didn't have much of a choice. I could hardly abandon her after everything that had happened. Fred quite seemed to hate her at the moment, and she was well aware of it. Another night away from the comfort of my bed.

"Yeah," I grunted. I offered George a tight smile as I untangled myself from him and followed my dear friend. He wrapped his hand around my wrist and gave it a squeeze as a make-shift goodnight, then loosened his grip to let my hand slip through his. "G'night, all." The group chorused goodnights at my back as I headed upstairs.

I followed Angie into her dorm, where I was not at all surprised to see a picture of her and me as pigtailed children coloring pictures of unicorns in her sunny kitchen snoozing on her nightstand. I flopped onto her bed next to her, glad we had not grown so much over the years that the two of us couldn't share a bed. Angie sighed at the ceiling and slapped her hands over her face.

"What am I going to do with him?" she groaned through the gap between her palms.

"With who?" I frowned, resting my hands on my stomach as I stared up at the ceiling. Angie dragged her hands down her face so that the bottom lids on her eyes were pulled grotesquely downward until they snapped back up into place, finally wrapping her arms around her stomach as if she was trying to hug herself for comfort.

"Fred." Of course. I should have known. Hadn't she just admitted how she felt about him only a few weeks ago?

"Fred didn't actually do anything," I reminded her.

"Only because we held him back," she shook her head. "Otherwise, he would have been the first one on Malfoy."

"Yeah, well, if I hadn't brought Professor Babbling a pepperup potion, I wouldn't have been assigned my Ancient Runes translation, but I'm not beating myself up over it."

"Mel," Angie rolled her head to pout at me, "Fred was really, properly angry."

"He had every right to be. If someone insulted my family like that, I'd remember that I was a witch and ruin their week instead of just trying to charge him."

"Yeah, see," Angie rolled onto her side to face me, and I mirrored her so we were looking at each other, "that's what bothers me. He just wanted to go at him. No hexes or jinxes or anything, just one-on-one, fists-flying fighting. That's not like him. Fred doesn't hurt people. I've never seen him so upset before, Mel. Have you?"

No. No, I hadn't. Come to think of it, I had seen the twins both talk about it and think about it and maybe even come close to it, but I'd never seen either one have to be restrained from causing physical, muggle harm to another person. I'd never seen George charge someone down like that, yet I found it surprisingly comforting to see that, in a moment of pure emotion, he could be so strong. But, it didn't matter how I felt. It mattered how Angie felt, and, seeing how she was upset, it looked like I had to be the voice of reason. Not my best role.

"They had insulted his whole family. And the twins aren't exactly known for controlling their tempers. Malfoy had-"

"He scared me, Mel." Her interruption startled me into silence. Angelina Johnson wasn't afraid of anything. As a child, she wasn't even afraid of the dark. She never worried about being killed by You-Know-Who. She wasn't shaken by heights or public speaking or snakes or small spaces. She'd never refused to use the toilet because there was a spider in the far opposite corner of the bathroom. Nothing scared Angie. Nothing.

"Ang," I offered her a weak half-smile, "he wasn't that bad."

"He _was_," she insisted softly. "He was _terrifying_. He was shaking, he was so mad, a-and when I looked in his eyes…it wasn't Fred, Mel. There was this-this fire that didn't belong there, and I could feel his arms get all tight when he made his hands into fists, and…and he fought against me. He wanted me to get out of the way so he could get at Malfoy. It didn't matter that I was trying to stop him from being an idiot; he didn't want to listen to me."

All good points. All _very_ good points. All points that I should have been brooding over because of George, yet I wasn't. Why wasn't I brooding? I'd seen the fire in his eyes. For the first time in as long as I could remember, he'd sent me away from him. But I knew he'd done it to protect me. He'd wanted me out of the way in case Harry did let go, which was a very real possibility considering the personal nature of Malfoy's words. He didn't want me trying to stop him because he knew I'd fail, and he didn't want that playing on my mind. Nothing could ever be simple in my head when George Weasley was involved. Angie had gone through more than that, though, because Fred had wanted her gone but she had refused. He'd fought against her right until the end. He'd stalked away from her without a word, and still sat fuming in the common room. All good reasons to be afraid.

Thankfully, Angelina was talking to the queen of fear. I knew what it was like to be terrified. There were some truly frightening things on the earth, and I knew them all quite well. Trolls. Be terrified of trolls. And roaches and darkness and hippogriffs and dragons and bats and graveyards at midnight. Do not be afraid of Fred Weasley. Even I could reasonably say there was nothing in him to fear.

"Maybe," I licked my lips and hoped that I could make a halfway logical argument, "maybe he did listen to you."

"How exactly did he do that?" she frowned. "It took all of us to hold him back."

"And he could've easily pulled out his wand and gotten you off of him before it got to that point, couldn't he?" Thank heavens for that Ravenclaw mind. I would make her see reason, even if it meant convoluting the facts. "He didn't need to wait for Katie and Alicia and I to pile on; he could've tossed you aside and gone at Malfoy way sooner. And even when we did help, he still could've used magic to break free. He wasn't so upset that he forgot about being a wizard. He would never do anything to hurt _you_ no matter how angry he might be, and maybe that's what you should take away from today. Not that he wanted to rattle Malfoy; we've all wanted to do that at some point, but that he didn't let that overshadow keeping you safe."

Angie stayed silent for a moment as she considered this. She would never have forgiven him if he had used magic against her, and Fred knew it. He might have written that option off so automatically that he never even consciously considered it.

"Did you see his eyes, Mel?" she whispered.

"Yeah," I whispered back. "I saw."

"Were you scared?"

"No."

After studying my face for a moment to be absolutely certain that I was telling the truth, she rolled onto her back. "Why does he have to make this so hard?" she sighed. "Why does he have to be so…so…ridiculous?"

"Ridiculous?" I smirked. "I don't think he's being ridiculous. I think he's…" I thought briefly of George landing a solid punch to Malfoy's jaw, and a surge of warmth spread through me, "being him. If he wasn't like this, you wouldn't care so much."

Angie let out a high-pitched growl and whipped her pillow around to hug it to her chest. "I hate boys. I hate them. Hate them!"

"I know," I murmured, running my hand over her hair comfortingly. "You'll sort through this; just give it time. You'll see. Fred wasn't so bad. It's not like he actually did anything. If Hooch hadn't stopped Harry and George…"

Angie cooed sympathetically. "George was right upset, too, wasn't he?" I nodded. "Egh, today was such a mess. We won the bloody match! We should be celebrating! It's not fair."

"It's not," I agreed.

We settled into silence, each lost in our own thoughts. I imagine that Angie went back to dwelling over Fred's eyes. I replayed George's charge at Malfoy and that punch that I found myself a bit proud of. It was a bloody good right hook.

"I have to say, though," Angie interrupted finally, "and don't get upset for me saying this, because they do look exactly alike…"

That preface terrified me.

"…George did look rather gorgeous knocking Malfoy around like that."

It was my turn to growl. Why did she have to say that? What on earth possessed her to say that? I didn't need her to point it out.

I was already well aware.

* * *

><p><strong>A bit longer than I intended, but since I don't know exactly when I'll have time to post next, maybe that's a good thing. Thanks for reading and reviewing!<strong>

**Next chapter: **_**Ravenclaw vs. Hufflepuff**_


	16. Ravenclaw versus Hufflepuff

"Oy, Jules! Hit one at Zacharias for me, yeah?"

Jules didn't need my request to be repeated or explained. The first bludger she saw went straight for the Hufflepuff captain, who dropped the quaffle right into Roger's hands as he dodged. Hufflepuff versus Ravenclaw. Game officially on.

"Davies passes to Bradley…oh, hit by a bludger!"

Bradley tried to toss the quaffle off, but the blow to his arm hurt worse than he thought, the throw came out weak and way too short to reach Chambers, and Hufflepuff easily intercepted.

"Shit," I muttered. We were completely out of position to steal the quaffle back, not to mention the fact that we were sort of rubbish at intercepting to begin with. This play would come down to me.

I waited in the middle of the hoops as Smith came at me. Thankfully, years of Roger's pestering to always analyze when watching other houses play their matches worked to my benefit. I knew his style; he'd wait until the last possible second to decide on a hoop so I thought we would collide and would bail out on the play, leaving the hoops wide open for him to score.

"Not today, Smith."

He wasn't used to keepers staying their ground, and when I braced myself for impact, he pulled up and made a throw for the left hoop.

Too easy.

I caught it routinely and passed to Chambers, who, along with Bradley and Davies, took it downfield.

10-0.

Hufflepuff's next attempt was better, but Lowell hit the back of Cadwalladar's broom with a bludger and sent him spinning in a circle. He was so dizzy when he came round that Davis took the quaffle from his very hands with a, "Thank you, sir," and a nod.

20-0.

Cadwalladar passed to Smith, who froze in front of Bradley. Zach flinched his arm left, and when Bradley followed, he passed it back to Cadwalladar. He avoided Lowell's bludger much better this time, and it whizzed past Jules's nose. She flinched and mishit the other bludger so instead of whizzing towards Cadwalladar, it was heading directly for the left hoop.

"Don't," I muttered. If Cad aimed there, I couldn't possibly block it. Not without getting a bludger to the face, at least.

Guess where he threw.

Had I been made of smarter stuff, I would have stayed away, maybe flew at the quaffle from underneath to grab it over my head as the bludger whizzed by. Something that wouldn't give me a serious head injury.

But, for all my fears, taking a bludger to the head was not big on my list as I raced for that quaffle. The one thing that I could reasonably take pride in was quidditch. It didn't come naturally or easily to me like potions or eating without choking to death (yes, I considered that a skill). I had to struggle even to get my broom into my hand that very first flying lesson. I'd fought to be on this team, and I fought to prove I deserved it.

So, when I wrapped my arms around that quaffle and hugged it to my chest to rapturous Ravenclaw applause, I felt proud. I beamed at the stands, and my eyes naturally found the "Mel, don't fall off!" sign that the twins brought to every match. George gave me a huge grin and a thumbs-up that made my heart swell.

And then my vision went completely white as the bludger hit my ear dead-on.

I screamed as the impact threw my sideways, and I grabbed my broom frantically to stay on it. My ringing ear and throbbing head blocked the gasps of the crowd as I bent forward to rest my forehead on my broomstick, hoping to alleviate the feeling that I very well may pass out.

Zacharias Smith caught the quaffle that I had forgotten about.

20-10.

Boos erupted from the Ravenclaws and Gryffidnors, but I waved a hand weakly. This was quidditch. If you weren't dead, the game went on.

After his goal, Smith called a time out and took his time flying to meet his team, giving me a sly recovery period that I greatly appreciated and grudgingly admitted I had to thank him for. Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. We stuck together.

"Are you alright?"

"I couldn't get there in time!"

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Why would you fly right a bludger, you numbskull?"

"JULES!"

"Well, she did!"

"I'm fine," I lied, waving off the cacophony of voices from my chaotic teammates. "Just, eh, Cho, couldchoo, could you, em, get that snitch soon, yeah?"

"I'm…I'm trying."

"Merlin, don't cry."

"I-I'm not crying!" she insisted, turning her face away to hide the fact that she was, indeed, on the verge of tears.

"Good. Don't. If any of us gets to cry, it's me. You're fine, Cho."

"You would be fine, too, if you didn't fly into bludgers."

"Jules, I will hurt you," I warned through gritted teeth. Roger helped me sit up and caught me when the rush of blood to my head nearly toppled me. I assured them falsely that I was fine as Hufflepuff broke, and we started again.

When Fitzwilliam threw at me, I saw three quaffles and chose the left one. Unfortunately, I was wrong.

20 all.

Then, as Davies, Chambers, and Bradley passed their way downfield, Chang went into a dive. She was easily three broomlengths ahead of Summerby as she raced for the snitch, thank the heavens. I could go to hospital wing soon. That would be nice.

But, as she dove, Chang rolled to dodge a bludger and caught a glimpse of her opponent.

And it wasn't Cedric.

"No," I muttered as Davies passed the quaffle under the Hufflepuff keeper to Chambers, who passed up to Bradley.

30-20.

"Cho, c'mon."

She faltered, and when she looked back, she'd lost the snitch. It was gone.

"Davies!" I yelled, ignoring how my temple protested. "DAVIES!"

He looked at me and followed my hand to a bewildered Chang and a diving Summerby. He swore and immediately signaled for time. The boos of the Hufflepuff crowd echoed around us as Summerby glared for taking away his snitch grab. Welcome to quidditch, dear. We met at my position to save my head a bit of pain.

But only a bit.

"Cho, pull yourself together!" I snapped.

"I-I just lost the snitch. It h-h-happens!"

"Well, _I'm_ going to lose it any minute now, and it would be nice if we were off the pitch when that happened. Forget about Summerby, stop your damn crying, and for two bloody seconds forget about Cedric! Just do your damn job!"

My team stayed silent. They might have agreed with me, but no one wanted to be the next person to tell Cho to stop mourning her dead boyfriend. Not in the middle of a match. Maybe they disagreed with me and thought I was horrible for what I said. Either way, no one said a word. Cho nodded silently and kept her face unreadable as Roger broke our huddle.

Smith didn't try to trick me. Why bother? I had no idea how to get to the upper hoop without getting lightheaded and falling off my broom.

30 all.

"Chang and Summerby are neck and neck, though Summerby's neck is rather longer, a bit like a giraffe's…sorry, Professor, no need to look so cross…"

I laughed at Lee and closed my eyes. Lowell stayed close to protect me from bludgers, leaving Jules to fend for the rest of the team. I would have preferred he went away, but part of me appreciated not having to keep a look out for any more bludgers. It was impossible for me to watch Chang race for the snitch; after yelling at her, my head throbbed so violently that I couldn't tell who was who on the pitch anymore, so I just kept my eyes closed and hoped Lowell would warn me if anyone came my way with the quaffle.

"AND CHANG COMES UP WITH THE SNITCH! RAVENCLAW WINS!"

Thank the heavens. As soon as my feet hit the ground, Madam Pomfrey ordered me to follow her to the hospital wing. I offered a weak smile to my team and my Gryffindor friends. We would have to celebrate some other time.

FGFGFGFGFGFG

"We always knew you were thick-headed, Mel, but this really takes it to a new level."

"Very funny, Fred," I rolled my eyes. "How'd you convince Pomfrey to let you in?"

"Lee ate a Puking Pastel. We said it would get him out of detention with Umbridge. Reckon Pomfrey's up to her elbows in it right now," George grinned proudly.

"You didn't!" Angie exclaimed. "That's horrid!

"Ah, but we did," Fred insisted with a wicked grin and a waggle of his eyebrows. He threw an arm across Angie's shoulders as he painted the vivid picture of how easy it was to convince Lee that he should take a candy that made his whole stomach empty all over the place. Angie wrinkled her nose disapprovingly, but I smiled.

It was good that they were speaking again. There had been some tense days where few words, if any, passed between Angie and Fred. She spoke to him when she had to in an attempt to keep up appearances, hoping no one would notice. Whether or not she fooled Ron and his lot I can't comment on, but Katie, Alicia, Lee, George, and I weren't idiots. We knew they were both upset with the other. When we grouped together for a study session where learning may or might not have happened, it felt like a giant elephant came and sat right smack in the middle of the circle. It was horrid.

They could always fix their problems in the most elegant ways, though. One day, as the twins and Angie and I sat around in the empty Great Hall between meals, the post-match fiasco came up somehow. Fred looked sheepishly at his pieces in our game of Wizard Chess, rubbed the back of his head, and muttered, "Yeah, Angie, y'know…bout that…"

"S'all right."

"S'not."

"Is."

And here we were, sitting in the hospital wing with Fred grinning broadly at Angie as she delicately removed his arm from around her, wrinkling her nose as if it smelled rather foul. As if nothing had ever happened.

George and Fred shared a look that held one of their secret, non-verbal conversations that I so desperately hated. Fred nodded and winked slyly at his brother, and then rested his hand on the small of Angie's back to lead her out of the hospital wing without a word of complaint from my dear friend. George perched on the side of my bed and pushed some hair out of my face.

"How're you doing?"

"I told you, I'm fine."

"No," he rolled his eyes, "you're not."

I frowned at him. "I'm fairly certain I have a firmer grasp on my personal well-being than you do, George. My head is perfectly fine."

"Ah, that's the crux of it, though, isn't it?" George smirked. "I'm not talking about your head."

"Well, then, you've lost me," I raised my hands up and dropped them quickly in frustration. "What _are_ you talking about?"

"How're you doing after playing against Hufflepuff without Cedric out there?"

My mouth went dry at how easily George could hit the heart of the matter. I hadn't even let myself think about that yet, but as soon as the question was out of his mouth, I knew that it had been bothering me. It had bothered me all day, from when I woke up too early to when I could barely eat to when I flew at that bludger.

"It wasn't right to have Summerby out there," I muttered.

"I'm going to ask you something, and you have to promise not to hurt me." I eyed George suspiciously. "Promise."

"I'm not promising anything," I shook my head.

George squeezed his eyes shut and ran a hand through his hair. "Bloody impossible," he muttered. "Alright. I'm going to ask you something, and if you hurt me, I'll write your mum."

Evil.

"Fine," I grunted, crossing my arms to let him know I wasn't pleased.

"Did you fly at that bludger because Cedric wasn't out there?"

"_What?_" I exclaimed. My arm flinched to punch his shoulder, but I managed to hold it back at the look George gave me. He would _not_ tell my mother I'd willingly flown into the path of a bludger. "That's absurd."

"No, it's not. We all talked about it." I made a mental note to kill Angie. "It's not hard to believe that someone might do something uncharacteristically stupid because they feel like they…are alone…or," he scrunched his face up, "um, abandoned."

"Is this Angie's theory?"

"It's mine, too!" he insisted.

"But you're explaining it using Angie's words."

"Well, she's good with words. I'm…"

"A man?"

"_Not that eloquent_."

"Same thing," I shrugged. George shook his head, and, for the briefest moment, irritation flashed across his face. George didn't get irritated often. Especially not with me. I didn't like seeing that look. "Fine," I sighed. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I was 'uncharacteristically stupid'," I made air quotes with my fingers, "because Cedric wasn't there to glare at me when I did something minorly dumb earlier in the match." Cedric would have stared me down for a long time after I played mid-air chicken with Zacharias, and it would have shamed me out of being overly daring later. I would have found a safer way to go for that quaffle; not necessarily an equally effective way, but a much safer one. But that was different than being so caught up in missing him that I was being reckless. Why couldn't George see that? I wasn't that bad. I had a lot of problems revolving around Cedric, but this wasn't one of them. Why was he making me sound worse than I was?

"I didn't do it because I missed him. I did it because I play differently without him. You know I do dangerous things when we play Slytherin, yeah?" George nodded. "But not you or Hufflepuff. Because when we play you two, I always had someone on the other team to remind me not to be a dunderhead. I didn't have that today. Not everything I do is because I miss Cedric. This was because he's gone, not because I can't deal with it."

"I'm not saying you can't deal with it," George mumbled. "I never said you can't deal with it."

"Yeah, well, I can't," I snapped. "I don't need you to remind me of it all the time. I do something stupid, it's because I miss Cedric. I worry about you getting hurt, it's because I miss Cedric. I trip down the stairs, it must be because I miss Cedric. There are other reasons why I do things, you know."

"Mel, I _know_," George insisted.

"You're supposed to be my friend, not some overbearing counselor."

"I'm just trying to help!"

"Well, maybe I don't want your help, George! You're not making it better; you're just being a prat, and I don't understand why you can't just leave me the hell alone!"

I hadn't meant to raise my voice, but it clearly rang through the hospital wing and bounced back to settle on my chest. George stayed silent and kept his face completely unreadable as we heard the tell-tale shuffling of Madam Pomfrey coming our way, finished with Lee.

"George," I started, reaching for him. He tugged his hand free and stumbled to his feet, his chair clattering backwards as he stood.

Madam Pomfrey needn't have bothered trying to shoo him out. He was already gone by the time she got to my bed.

* * *

><p><strong>Next chapter: <em>Home for the Holidays<em>**


	17. Home for the Holidays

Roger Davies waved at me as his dad dragged him away from the Hogwarts Express with talks of quidditch standings. Further down the platform, Bradley and Chambers were engaged in a silent wrestling match as their mothers chatted obliviously. I gently put the cage with Wooster on top of my trunk and watched my temperamental owl switch between looking around the students milling around the train tracks and shooting me deadly looks for whatever injustice I had most recently caused him.

"Well," I sighed, plopping onto my trunk, "this is a great start to the holidays. Can't even find my mum." Wooster hooted softly and fluffed his feathers. "Yeah, I know, why should you care?"

Not that I wasn't looking forward to a quiet holiday at home, but I already missed my friends. Late one night, I'd woken up with the inexplicable urge to vomit, which I did while shivering furiously and Feeling quite like someone had been grievously injured. Having no proof other than the sudden onset and departure of the stomach flu, I'd simply gone back to bed. As fate would have it, Fred and George, along with Ron and Ginny and even Harry Potter, had taken off in the middle of that very same night for some family crisis that Lee was somewhat sketchy on the details about (couldn't even bother waking up when his two best mates got swept away in a panic, the twat), and they had yet to send me a letter explaining their disappearance. I desperately wanted to hear from them, too; between imagining the gruesome death of Arthur Weasley and envisioning George so fuming mad at me that he would never speak to me again, I was on the verge of losing my mind.

Angie hadn't taking the train home because her mother had business in Hogsmeade, so she was taking a carriage there with a few other students. I wanted to go with her, but my mother was having none of that. Even Cho had abandoned me for Marietta, and any compartment with Marietta Edgecomb had no room for me in it. Not that Cho and I were on speaking terms at the moment. She'd been particularly cool to me since the quidditch match, and between her and George, I was beginning to feel like quite a terrible friend.

"I hate Hogwarts," I pouted, sticking a finger through the bars of Wooster's cage to stroke his soft brown wing. "At least you'll never abandon me. …You'll die of old age, but you'll never leave me until then. …Except when you're out hunting. Or delivering mail. Or stretching your wings. Oh!" I slapped my fists against my knees and then dropped my head down to massage my forehead. "Even my owl hates me!"

I _really_ needed to talk to George. This attitude of mine had driven Angelina completely bonkers the last few weeks. Katie and Alicia had acted sickeningly cheerful around me as if they thought I would brighten just by being in their vicinity. Cho was too busy switching between mooning and agonizing over her kiss with Harry Potter (blech). I was too pathetic to deal with her even if she would let me, which left Roger with that unpleasant task, and he seemed to be taking his revenge by asking not a single thing about why I was so pathetic to begin with.

I heaved a huge sigh that sent the side of my hair puffing out, and I scanned the platform once more for my mother. Bradley and Chambers had been caught, and they both took their reprimands with hung heads and mumbled responses. Wise lads. I looked around again, but my mother was absolutely nowhere to be seen. She was simply not on Platform 9 ¾.

But someone else was, and the tattered robes of the man in the large-brimmed hat were too familiar to escape my notice. Most students shrugged by as if they barely saw him because he was nothing more than another man waiting for his son or daughter to get their lazy behind off the train for the winter holidays. He wasn't, though, was he?

"I hate holidays," I muttered to Wooster, making an obvious show of scanning the platform by moving my entire head. My eyes lingered on him, but I moved on quickly when the hat turned in my direction. I repeated the motion, but when my eyes landed on him, a pale face worn with lines and framed by greying brown hair met me.

Remus Lupin.

Shit.

Trying to act as casually as possible, I slid off of my trunk and enchanted it to rest comfortably on top of a cart, which I then pushed down the platform and around to a section where the buildings were uneven and I could hide around a makeshift corner, just out of sight. I peered cautiously back to see that Lupin, too, had moved to lean casually against a bench so that corner didn't do me the least bit of good; he could look straight at me if he so chose. I looked frantically for the midnight black curls of my mother's hair to no avail. Never had I wanted to see her more desperately than the moment I realized I was being followed by a werewolf.

When I turned back, he was standing directly in front of me, and I nearly screamed in surprise. Thankfully, though, I managed to hold it in. On second thought, maybe I should have let it out. Attract some attention to us. Something to keep in mind for the future…

"Melbecka," he nodded softly with a gentle smile.

"Puh…"I licked my lips and willed myself to keep the fear out of my eyes as we stared each other down. "Pr…" I paused to gulp. "Remus."

Excellent plan, Melbecka. Antagonize the werewolf.

"I trust you are well."

"My mum'll be here any minute!"

Way to not show panic…

"No, she won't," Lupin shook his head as casually as if he was commenting on the particularly grey sky.

"Eh, yeah. She will."

Mature. Reeeeal mature.

"No, actually," Remus paused to yawn, "she really won't. Ah, don't worry," he held a hand up as if that would prevent the images of my mother being torn to shreds by ferocious manbeasts. "She's perfectly safe. Just…otherwise engaged. It's been brought to our attention that someone, and we're not quite clear on who, told you about…"

"The Order," I interrupted as rudely as I could. Whatever he was going to do me, I'd probably already pissed him off enough to make it as horrid as possible. May as well thoroughly do myself in. "But there was no mention of kidnapping in that description."

"Melbecka," Remus grunted, rubbing his forehead wearily, "you are not being kidnapped."

"Then, what are you going to do with me?"

"Take you with me."

"That's kidnapping!" I exclaimed with a childish foot stomp.

"Not if you come willingly."

"Oh, like I would do that!" I scoffed.

"I don't quite see where you have a choice."

"If I don't have a choice, then I'm…not…will…" Remus blinked at me, completely unfazed. "I hate Fred."

Remus raised his eyebrows but said nothing as he grabbed my trunk. At least I could look forward to Molly tongue-lashing Fred for telling me about the Order, who would then rightly sell-out George, who would then be subject to a far worse punishment. Considering the way the past few weeks had been, and the illicit kidnapping to start my holidays, I felt like spreading around the misery a bit.

With one hand firmly on my cart and the other on the pocket that presumably held his wand, Remus nodded me forward. I briefly considered taking off for the border and crossing onto the muggle platform, but I desperately needed my trunk. Even though Professor Lupin's condition somewhat horrified me, I was much more horrified at the prospect of two weeks without my clothes. Besides, he'd probably hex me into submission.

George jumped to number one on my 'most hated' list.

"Right," Remus murmured as he suddenly came to a halt. I nearly crashed into him but avoided it by tripping over my own feet and falling onto my trunk, which sent Wooster's cage toppling. Remus caught my owl expertly and righted both the cage and myself before gesturing to a rather grotty-looking boot. It was patched in several places in different shades of black which contrasted sharply with the worn brown leather of the boot. The patches, none of which were firmly attached to the boot anymore, also contrasted sharply with the wads of gum stuck to the sole in a variety of different colors. "Grab hold."

"Excuse me?" I wrinkled my nose.

"Portkey."

"I'm not touching that." I'd rather hear the sordid details of Angelina and Fred's Yule Ball tryst, thank you.

"I have your trunk."

George became number two on the list.

I hated travelling by portkey. Floo powder was fun, all that spinning and the smoke swirling and getting glimpses into all sorts of rooms. The Knight Bus was exhilarating, despite the constant feeling that the whole thing would crash and kill all the occupants. Apparating was so bloody convenient. But portkeys? They just made me feel like I'd left my stomach behind only to have it come crashing to meet me a few seconds later. What a horrible sensation.

If it shook up Lupin at all, though, he didn't show it. Instead, he tossed the boot on top of my trunk, much to Wooster's dismay, and wheeled us to the meeting point of two rather tall houses.

"This is it?" I wrinkled my nose. "Not impressive. You're hideout blows."

Remus smirked and shook his head as he reached into his pocket. My stomach clenched and I flinched towards my own wand, but when he did not draw his, I relaxed. Instead, he handed me a slip of paper and ordered me to read it silently.

_The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix is number 12 Grimmauld Place_

I recognized Dumbledore's handwriting immediately. I'd watched anxiously as he'd inked several reassuring letters to my hysterical mother after the more dangerous events of Hogwarts's history. A troll loose on Halloween? I was up those stairs begging for him to reassure my mother that I didn't need to be pulled out of my magical education so unbelievably fast. A hippogriff bit Draco Malfoy's arm? Another letter. A werewolf teacher? Dumbledore had one written and waiting for me. I knew his writing. And, consequently, I knew that he was part of this Order, too.

When I glanced up to say something about it to Remus, though, my former professor was shaking his head at me with a barely contained grin. I frowned in confusion and looked at Wooster as if my owl had an explanation.

"Only you would miss a house appearing in front of you."

"What?" I frowned as Remus grabbed one side of my trunk. I grabbed the other, took Wooster in my free hand, and ascended the stairs to the front door of a house that looked no better off than that boot. "A house appeared?"

"Never mind, Melbecka," Remus chuckled as we reached the door.

I was about to push the matter, but Remus pressed a finger to his lips to silence me as he eased open the door. Despite my desire to figure out what exactly he was going on about, I fell quiet. If this was the place George had told me about, I didn't want any beasts leaping out at me.

I did, however, want to throttle George.

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry for the long wait. I didn't forget, just had no time to post. But here I am right now! Thank you for reading and reviewing, and if you have any commentssuggestions/criticisms/songs of praise in my name, I'd love to read them.**

**Next chapter: _Meeting the Order_**


	18. Meeting the Order

With the front door shut behind us, Remus Lupin eased my trunk to the ground, and we let go as soon as it touched the floor. He motioned me down the hall and held open the door to a rather homey-looking kitchen so I could enter first. He slipped in behind me, and the room's occupants waited until the door was firmly shut before reacting to my presence.

Molly Weasley burst into a wide smile and bustled over to wrap me in a warming hug. "Oh, dearie, I was so worried about you. How's your head feeling?"

"Em, yeah, that's…it's, y'know, lovely, it's great, just great, just…great," I mumbled senselessly, worming uncomfortably out of the embrace. Truth be told, it still bothered me a bit. Madam Pomfrey told me it was perfectly normal to get an occasional headache from the rather stupid accident I'd had, and somewhere in my trunk was a remedy for just such occasions that I absolutely refused to take it. I would fight You-Know-Who one day. It would help if I could first fight a headache. "Where am I exactly?"

"Mel, honestly," Ginny Weasley, seated at the kitchen table with a book open in front of her, rolled her eyes. "Did you not _read_ the paper he gave you?"

"You'd be amazed at what slips by her."

"You can just hush your mouth," Remus pointed menacingly at Fred, who sat across from Ginny with a stack of plates piled in front of him. "You've already said enough."

Fred looked over the stack at Remus incredulously, but then realization dawned on him and he turned accusingly to me. He knew I'd pinned this on him. And he was going to make me pay for it. Or at least try. He tugged at the collar of last year's Mrs. Weasley sweater agitatedly as he narrowed his eyes at me.

"Fred," Molly whirled on her son, also understanding the implication of Remus's words, "we told you not to tell anyone. We specifically sat you and your brother down, did we not, and what did we tell you?"

"Mum, she's lying," Fred grumbled, sinking back in his chair. He knew it was a hopeless battle, but a Weasley twin had to at least attempt to fight. Even if it was half-hearted.

"Don't accuse her of anything!" Molly snapped, pointing a wooden spoon at her son threateningly. "What. Did. We. Tell. You?"

Fred rolled his eyes and sent another glare at me before fixing a hard gaze on his mother, which she was none-too-pleased about, and answering, "Not to tell Angelina or Melbecka about any of this," in an even voice tinged with just the slightest bit of venom. "But I didn't-"

"And _why_ did we tell you that, Fred?"

"Mum, I _didn't_. It was-"

"FRED!"

"Molly." A gravelly voice from the far end of the table cut through the shadows and across the room, silencing everyone. Fred slunk back in his seat and fixed me with a glare that would've probably killed me if looks could, and Molly sent her version of that expression to the man who interrupted her. "Give the boy a chance to explain."

Molly glared into the dark end of the kitchen, at a much better angle to see the man speaking to her than I was, and finally huffed in such a way that told us all she consented. Not happily, of course, but consented nonetheless. Fred kept his glare on me for a moment longer before softening to the pleading look all boys seem to use on their mums in just such occasions to weasel out of trouble.

"I didn't tell her a thing. If I was going to tell anyone, it'd be…well, it wouldn't be her, no offense," he tossed over his shoulder at me, anger momentarily forgotten. "And I didn't tell _anyone_ about this whole thing." I stared down at my shoes and shifted my weight uncomfortably. There was something oddly noble about Fred pleading his case, insisting he hadn't told a soul about the Order of the Phoenix. Not even Angie, even if he wouldn't say her name. "I don't know how she found out, alright? But it wasn't me."

I snapped my head up but carefully avoided looking at Fred. If he was not going to sell out George, I wouldn't either. Not that they wouldn't figure it out on their own, of course, but we didn't have to become tattles. Time to fess up. "Ye-eah," I winced, and all eyes turned to me. "Fred…didn't tell me. Which I never actually said he did," I pointed out, reverting to that childish, know-it-all tone as I turned to Remus. Really, I needed to stop talking like that around him. "I just said I hated him, which I do. Would it have killed someone to write me? You just take off in the middle of the night and can't even be bothered to send me a bloomin' letter as to why?"

The occupants of the kitchen fell silent and exchanged glances uncomfortably. No, of course I hadn't occurred to any of them. They were too wrapped up in themselves.

"They told George and me not to write," Fred answered finally. "Since you were coming anyway, they didn't want to risk it. It's all a bit mad, and they knew telling you would just give you more questions than answers. We tried, Mel."

I found myself feeling extremely guilty for trying to give the twins a double helping of Molly Weasley's wrath. I also found myself wanting to cry at how damn lucky I was to have friends like them. How brilliantly lucky.

"They did." The voice from the end of the table confirmed. "And, were it up to me, I would have let them."

"If it were up to you, we'd have a bloody sign hanging on the…"

"Molly," Remus interrupted in that silent yet intimidatingly strong way he had. Then, he turned to me. "Mel, this is…"

"Sirius Black," I interrupted, staring hollowly at the scruffy man with the scraggly black hair that stepped into view in front of me. "I've heard a lot about you."

Years on exhibit made him immune to my stare. "All good, I hope," he smiled charmingly.

Years with Fred and George made me immune to charm. "Mostly that you're a mass murderer who escaped Azkaban to bolster support for the return of your so-called Dark Lord."

There was a heavy silence as we stared at each other. Ginny might have gasped at my frankness, but I couldn't be sure. I was a bit too busy matching wills to pay that much attention. Faces impassable, we studied each other, taking in every detail that could be important, absorbing every fact we could learn about each other, searching for a weaknesses and threats and chinks in each other's armor. Seems we had been raised with a bit of the same philosophy. Everything and everyone is dangerous.

"So…_not_ all good, then?" Sirius finally offered with a half-smile.

I smiled, too, as the tension between and around us shattered with that simple question. "Fred and George explained about you so I didn't lock myself indoors until your recapture. But no one has explained why exactly _I_ am _here_."

"Oh, honestly," Fred rolled his eyes as he pushed out the chair next to him for me to sit down, "they never explain anything. You'll wait for eternity." I grinned as I dropped into the chair and allowed him to ruffle my hair in greeting. Mrs. Weasley rolled her eyes in exasperation, and Remus carefully sat down across from me.

I imagine he had an elegant explanation all planned and at the ready, but before he could even begin to get it out, the door to the kitchen flew open. There, in all his grizzled glory, stood Professor Alastor Moody. His magical eye swiveled around the room to take in all the occupants, but his good eye (as well as the rest of him), focused solely on me. This fact, I must admit, made me gulp. In his brief stint as a Hogwarts professor, Moody had intimidated me. Something about that blasted eye made me squirm. But now? Well, he was just bloody _horrifying_.

"Good. You got her," Moody grunted, clunking his way towards the cupboards to secure himself a flask of something or other. Molly clucked disapprovingly but said nothing. "Don't s'pose you know which boy told her, eh?"

Remus opened his mouth but hesitated, noting the glance Fred and I shared. "Ah…well, not exactly, no," he finally shook his head. Keeping my face as unreadable as I could, I flicked my eyes towards Lupin and hoped he understood that I was thanking him. He winked at me ever so slightly, and I briefly considered that maybe being a werewolf didn't necessarily make him a man-eating monster.

Moody 'harumph'ed and clunked back over to the table. He, too, sat down across from us and allowed both of eyes to bore into me. "You know why you're here."

"I do not!" I insisted, unsure if he had been telling or asking. "I don't know a bloody thing about what's going on, and I'd like a bloomin'…" I cut myself off when Fred smacked his elbow into mine. Apparently, he didn't think a showdown with Mad-Eye was in my best interest. Probably true.

"Well, you know about the Order, don't you? We can't just have you running about! One person finds out that you know about us, and you'll have ever Death Eater in the country apparating into your living room, wands drawn, Cruciatus at the ready. Some of the best witches I've ever known have met their ends because they knew…"

"Stop!" Fred finally snapped. Somewhere in Moody's miniature tirade, I'd shrunken into Fred's chest, and he had protectively wrapped an arm around my shoulders. It helped a little, but that didn't keep Moody's words from shaking me right to my very core. What exactly had George gotten me involved with? I knew this Order thing was big, but so big that I could be tortured for my knowledge? Killed for it? I didn't want to be part of that.

Was I going to die because of _this_?

For all of the things Fred could tolerate, he just could not stand to see a girl frightened. Or maybe that was just when the girl happened to be a friend of his. Either way, when I began shaking in his arms, he had to put an end to Moody's "explanation". I had never been happier to know him.

"So," Fred continued, voice much more even, "what you're saying is that she's here because she knows enough to make her a target if someone were to find out. The same reason all the rest of us are here."

"That's exactly what he's saying," Remus agreed.

"Right then," Fred took his arms off of me to clap his hands together, "there's nothing to worry about. See?" he offered me a wry grin. "You're finally in just as much trouble as I am."

"Where's George?" I questioned, feeling not the least bit comforted by the fact that the rest of the people in the house were in danger as well. Mrs. Weasley gave me directions both to the twins' room and to my own and ordered Fred to help me with my trunk, which I refused. I would deal with my things later. Right now, I just wanted to see George. That's all. Not unpack. Not deal with Wooster, who watched me pass with narrowed eyes and a rather displeased flap of his wings (ornery old bugger). Just see George.

So, I gently eased open the door to the twins' bedroom and was relieved beyond words to see George lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling absently. There were a million things we needed to say to each other, but I said none of them before climbing onto the bed next to him. George said nothing, either, just scooted over so there was room for me, let me rest my head on his chest, and wrapped his arms around me in a protective hug. I sighed into him, thankful just to have him back.

We were like that for a long time before I admitted, "I'm scared, George."

"I know," he murmured and planted a warm, soft kiss on my forehead. "You're safe here."

"I don't understand what's going on."

"I know."

"I don't know what they did to my mum."

"We'll find out."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

I sighed. "I missed you."

George was uncharacteristically still for a moment which he broke by slowly leaning to kiss the top of my head again. "I missed you, too, Mellie."

I was so overjoyed to be back with him that I completely forgot how much I hated when he called me that.

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><p><strong>Whew, sorry for the delay. School is just so insanely busy right now! Thanks for sticking with me, though. It's great to see that people are still reading.<strong>

**Next Chapter: **_**Getting Answers**_


	19. Getting Answers

Harry Potter and I had several similarities in our lives, yet we still managed to have absolutely nothing in common. My father was killed by death eaters which led to my mother painstakingly sheltering me. His parents were killed by Voldemort which led to him being raised by magic-hating muggles that kept the very existence of our world from him. I befriended two Weasley boys on the Hogwarts Express after they collided into Angie and me on the platform. He becomes best mates with Ron because the Weasley's helped him find the platform entrance and coddled him since he was all on his lonesome.

I woke up in the middle of the night with the Feeling that someone I cared about had been attacked because of some half-assed form of the Sight. Harry Potter envisioned himself as Arthur Weasley's attacker because he was probably possessed by You-Know-Who.

Bloody show-off.

Fred and George still held quite strong feelings towards the event, too; that much was clear from the beginning of my stay at 12 Grimmauld Place. As the twins recounted their story of the night they were swept away from Hogwarts, I could practically feel anger rolling off of them, especially Fred.

"And you know what Sirius told us?" Fred snapped, flailing his arms and making me jump yet again. "He told us we couldn't even go see him!"

"Said we could damage the Order if we went before the hospital had told Mum, and Dad'd be upset if we mucked things up for them," George continued in much the same tone as his brother. I would never tell them, but that logic made sense to me. Isn't that what you signed up for in this group? Any job the Order gave you might be the last thing you ever did, but dying was not the biggest sacrifice you were asked to make for this war.

"And when we told him we didn't care 'cuz it was our dad, guess what he said! He said," so much for guessing, "and I quote, he said, 'This is why you're not in the Order – you don't understand'!"

I failed to see what exactly I was supposed to be upset about, so I took a moment to gather my thoughts into a tactful reprimand and hoped it looked like I was just shocked beyond belief at the inhumanities against them.

I failed at that, too.

"You agree with him!" Fred accused, sitting bolt upright to turn his righteous indignation on me. "You agree we shouldn't be in the order because we don't understand the sacrifices."

"I didn't…say…yeah." Why bother playing the denial game? "But if it was my mum, I'd probably be furious, too. You boys should be upset. Absolutely. I just see his point."

"You agree with an Azkaban escapee?" George raised his eyebrows. "Will wonders never cease?"

"She broadens her horizons at least once a month," Fred agreed, earning George a death glare and both of them the middle finger. At least they weren't yelling at me anymore, though.

"Well, now that you've had some time to calm and all, let me put what Sirius said in friendlier terms. This job is going to kill someone. When it does, we have to deal with it quicker than we would any other time. Because we will still have a job to do."

The twins were silent for a long time as they looked at each other, having one of their private conversations I could never understand. Finally, Fred, still looking at George, said, "You talk like you're one of them."

Blood rose into my cheeks, and I dropped my head down quickly so my hair hid my blush. "I've never really had a goal for my life. This Order…actually means something." Before things could get too dramatic between us, which they seemed to do more and more often as of late, I changed the subject. "And why is it that I was kidnapped for the holidays because of my knowledge of the Order, but Hermione was going to be allowed on a ski trip and chose to come here of her own free will? My freedom has been violated." Fred and George immediately broke into grins at my expense. "And why was she told the morning after your dad got attacked that it'd happened? I wasn't told at all, had to find out from the Hogwarts rumor mill, and I halfway knew it happened already! This is discrimination. Dumbledore hates me because I'm a Ravenclaw!"

"Don't be ridiculous," George rolled his eyes, and Fred ruffled my hair.

"Dumbledore hates you because you're a spasmodic bitch."

I wrinkled my nose and wriggled until I was free from Fred's hand. "Alright, I'm leaving. Seriously!" I smacked George's hand away as he reached for my arm. "I'm going to demand answer's from Mad Eye."

"I wouldn't," George warned.

"That's because you're a coward," I retorted matter-of-factly. "But thanks for the warning. Try to be productive while I'm gone. For instance, Fred, you could try writing to Angie! Maybe let her know what's going on with your dad. Umbridge was right sore about you all leaving under her nose like that, and word spread pretty quickly about why all the Weasley's vanished in the middle of the night to piss her off like that. You owe the girl and explanation, yeah?"

Fred heaved a sigh and pushed himself to his feet. I watched him shuffle to his trunk, pull out a sheet of parchment, a bottle of ink, and a quill, and wave the items at me to show that he would right. Just to be sure, I pointed at George, and he nodded so I knew he would make sure his brother wrote a solid letter to Angelina. I would not have that girl fuming next term because she'd been left in the dark, or worse, received a half-assed letter from Fred that explained absolutely nothing.

In the one evening I'd been in the house, I'd already learned to completely hate how we all had to tiptoe through the halls. Yet, tiptoe I did until I got to the kitchen and could quite happily burst through the door.

Two faces turned to look at me, one surprised and one not. Then again, Mad-Eye Moody probably saw me coming through the wall while poor Sirius Black had been left in the dark. Tough. I dropped down in the chair between them, pulled my feet up to rest on the seat, and hugged my knees to my chest.

"Moody."

"Harper," he gruffed right back at me, good eye on a piece of parchment angled away from me and creepy eye angled through his head at me.

"I have a question."

"Feel free to spit it out at any moment."

Even though I was half tempted to stomp off and leave him in suspense, I highly doubted this would have any effect. So, I plowed on. "Why was I forced to come here, but you were going to let Hermione Granger go skiing?"

"Were we?" he muttered, attention focused solely on the parchment. "Skiing, eh? Sounds like a lovely way to spend the holiday."

I leaned forward sharply to get his attention, but my attempt failed. "Why did she know about the attack when I didn't? Why am I being so sheltered? She's in more danger than I am!"

"Is she?" Moody frowned. I got the distinct impression that I amused him, and that only made me angrier. "I suppose she is."

"Dammit, Alastor!" I finally exploded, slamming my hands down on the table so sharply that he was forced to slowly turn his gaze to me. "I am not a child, and I will not have you treating me like one. If you have a good explanation for letting Hermione do what she pleases but treating me like a porcelain doll, just tell me what it is so I can stop feeling like you think I'm an infant. If you don't have a reason…" I let all my air out and slumped back in my chair while I searched for the right words, and when I spoke again, I felt none of the anger from mere seconds ago, "then at least have the decency to explain why you thought that you were taking the right course of action in our individual courses."

I don't know if my lack of emotional control impressed him or if it was my astounding display of logic that did the trick, but Alastor Moody surveyed me for a long time as I stared him down in determination. There would be no rest for either of us until I got an answer, and I made sure that he could see it in my eyes.

Finally, Moody grunted and set the parchment down. "Who said we were letting Hermione go skiing?"

"Hermione."

One corner of his mouth twitched into the closest thing to a smile I had ever seen. "But she changed her mind last minute, I suppose. Remembered how dearly she hated skiing?"

"Something like…" And it dawned on me. "You're a bloody bastard, you know that? Forcing her out of a skiing holiday. At least my plans were just to sulk around the house and hope Mum didn't witness me tripping over my shoelace. She actually had something to _do_."

"The mountains will still be there."

"I suppose you had Remus kidnap her as well, then?"

"Harper, you really need to drop this notion that we've kidnapped you."

"I am in a location not of my choosing against my will. What exactly is _your_ definition of kidnapping, Moody?" He frowned and shrugged at my logic. "Why was she told about the attack, though? No one told me, but Dumbledore told her _in person_ what happened that very morning."

"Well, did you ask?"

"I…" This made me think. "Well, no. No, I-I guess I didn't."

"See, there's your problem," he nodded sharply in a tone that felt much like I should start taking notes. "Always ask questions, Harper. You never know what people will tell you if you just ask. Never be afraid to do that."

Alright. He wanted me to ask questions? I could do that. "What did you do to my mother so I could stay here without her losing her mind?"

Moody's face crinkled into what I suppose was a grin at how quickly I'd taken his lessen to heart. "We heard that a ski holiday opened up."

"Only answers half the question." My mother always had loved skiing. Never would let me try it; feared I'd fall down the mountainside or something.

Moody snorted. "Half the…" he muttered to himself, then returned to normal volume to finish talking. "You, Harper, are currently under the personal protection of Albus Dumbledore, and your mother received an owl informing her of her wonderful fortune."

"That wouldn't be good enough for her," I shook my head.

"It is if you add a little magic."

"You did not cast any kind of coercion spell on my mother!"

"I did no such thing," Moody assured me. "We used a potion."

* * *

><p><strong>Next Chapter: <strong>_**Christmas Eve**_


	20. Christmas Eve

"Do you suppose anyone would notice if I-"

"You can't experiment on Hermoine's cat," George interrupted lazily. Fred crossed his arms over his chest and turned to me as if my answer would be different.

"Absolutely not," I confirmed, turning to the next page of _The Golden Cauldron_. Philomena was brewing the first potion she had attempted in nearly two decades to save the love of her life, a particularly handsome blind squib that could not see the horrible scars on her face from the potion catastrophe that still haunted her. The decision to ruin Cruikshanks could not possibly come at a worse moment.

"I won't _hurt_ the bloody thing," Fred insisted. "I just want to see if-"

"_No_," George and I insisted with, dare I say, twin-like precision. Fred huffed and hopped onto the bed next to me since, after all, it was his bed to begin with.

"Her hands _shook_ so terribly that she nearly diced her own _finger_ instead of the dandelion root held between her long, delicate…"

"Fred Weasley!" I snapped the book shut so quickly that he jumped, and I briefly regretted losing my page. "Do _not_ read over my shoulder!"

"But it's so compelling!" he insisted innocently. "I must know if her fingers survive the ordeal!"

I turned to George. "Make him stop!"

"Play nice," George mumbled, still studying the directions I'd given the twins for the boil-reducing potion that should be just the solution they needed for those blasted candies.

"For someone who always encourages me to read, you are _awfully_ against my interest in this book."

"Fred!" I snapped, swinging with the book. He grunted as I made contact with his stomach, but that boyish grin told me it had no impact whatsoever. What did he care if I hit him with my silly romance novel? "Go away!"

"Only if you promise to keep me posted on…what was it?...Phillipa…"

"Philomena," I corrected automatically before squeezing my eye shut in regret. Why did I indulge him?

"Philomena!" he snapped cheerfully, like he had been the one to remember it. "I will go away if you promise to keep me posted on Philomena's fingers."

"Fine, yes, I'll give you every painstaking detail about them." Merlin, did I hope there was a graphically smutty scene somewhere in the coming chapters. One where her fingers went somewhere Molly Weasley would throw a fit if she even considered me knowing about. …No, no, I did not wish for that. Never mind.

"Then, I shall leave you alone, my darling dearest," Fred bowed his head and threw himself to the opposite end of the bed. "Is this distance acceptable?"

"Stop being cheeky, or I will hurt you."

"Alright," George grunted, dropping my instructions onto his bed with a sigh. "You're both being annoying berks, and this whole 'peace on earth' thing is only going to protect you so far."

"You love us!" Fred grinned. "Tis the Eve of our Savior's birth, Georgie!"

"That's it. I'm leaving."

FGFGFGFGFG

"Where's Fred at?" I asked, hopping onto George's bed next to him. George, who was sprawled out on his back staring absently at the ceiling, slid over so we could lay side-by-side. I rested my hands on my stomach and my head on his elbow, which was crooked out from the hand propped under his head.

"Composing a letter."

I snorted. "And who exactly is he composing a letter to?"

"Angie, I think," George frowned. "He was mumbling a lot, didn't really catch what exactly he was saying. Something about apologizing and presents and milk, I think. And he just took his quill and ink and your owl," which was just so very lovely, "and left."

"Milk?"

"I might've misheard that bit."

"Y'think?"

"Don't you start with me, too. He already went off on me for being too concerned with myself to listen to his problems."

"Well," I smirked, rolling my head to face him, "you did think he was muttering about milk."

"Maybe he was!" George insisted indignantly. "You weren't here; you don't know! Maybe he needs to apologize to Angelina because he bought her a milk jug as a present. I might be on to something here!"

"Yeah," I smirked. "You're definitely on something."

"Oy, watch it," he warned. "Look," he rolled his head to face me, bumping my nose with his in the process, "it's not like I've got some special gift. I don't know what he's thinking."

"Are you implying that I do? You know that's not how it works. Why is he writing Angie again, anyway? Didn't he just do that the other day?"

"Yeah, he did. I think he got a less-than-thrilled response from her."

"What, Angie reamed him for being a dunderhead and leaving her out of the loop?" I said with absolutely no shock in my voice at all. George chuckled lightly. "Eh, good for him," I sighed, readjusting my head so my chin was angled away from him but our temples touched. "I like being reminded that the boy is literate."

"I sometimes wonder that very thing," George yawned. "Say, is Sirius still decorating, or is it safe to go downstairs?"

"I wouldn't," I shook my head. Having a full house of people he cared about for the first time in a lifetime was clearly having quite the effect on our dear Sirius Black. He had taken it upon himself to decorate the house top-to-bottom, dangling garlands and magical snow and even decking out a live Christmas tree. At any given moment, one might pass a room and hear a jaunty carol coming from the other side of the wall. His mood was rather infectious, but I found that even Father Christmas hats on the disgustingly eery elf heads did not make this place cheerful.

Maybe it was my forced stay, but I hated the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. The carpets were threadbare, the walls had odd stains on them, Kreacher needed a solid kick in the rear, that bloody painting gave me headaches, and I was about at the end of my rope with Molly Weasley telling me to go to bed because the "adults" were having a meeting. In a nutshell, I wanted to go home.

"Is your mum always like this?"

"What'd'you mean?" George asked lazily.

"Y'know, ordering people about and laying down the law and being all."

"Oh. Yeah. She's pretty much like that all the time."

"How on earth did you become such a dunderhead with a mother like that?"

"How did you become such a dunderhead with a mother like yours?"

"I am not a dunderhead!" I laughed, rolling my head to the side so I could blow a concentration of cold air forcefully onto his cheek, my lips gently grazing his skin.

"Oy!" he complained, pulling away slightly. "That's just rude! I won't give you your present if you keep that up."

"Oh, as if you would skip over me on Christmas!" I grinned.

"O-ho, you really are sure of yourself, aren't you?" he laughed challengingly, rolling onto his side to face me.

He propped himself up on his elbow so he could look down at me, and I rolled onto my back so he could have the full effect of my puppy dog face.

"You'll still give me my present, right, George?" I stuck my bottom lip out and batted my eyes in the silence that stretched between us after my question.

George's face softened slowly, and he offered me a gentle smile. I felt my own smile fade away as he reached his free hand out to brush a stray curl back off of my face, and my eyes closed of their own accord as his fingertips scraped against my temples.

"You know I will."

I barely heard him. I barely heard anything, even Sirius wandering by singing Deck the Halls. None of that seemed to matter. The only thing that really did matter at that moment was the intensity in George's eyes, the realization that his hand was still in my hair with his thumb gently resting on my cheek, the feel of his breath ghosting across my face.

The first boy I had ever kissed was Harold Mitford from down the street. I was eight years old, and Angie pinky-promised she'd let me wear her new blue sweater if I did it. So, behind an old tree at the playground on a rare day that Mum let me out unsupervised like a normal child, I screwed up my courage and pecked him full on the lips. I imagine it would have been much the same if I had kissed an octopus, all wet and sloppy.

George, thank Merlin, did not kiss like Harold Mitford. Granted, he'd had far more practice at it than my two-second romance, but, from what I'd heard, Harold hadn't improved much over the years. All that practice had certainly done George some good, and I was more than happy to reap the benefits.

The kiss was light at first, but it was clear from the moment our lips met that we could not possibly keep things gentle. I tangled my fingers through his hair as he ran his tongue along mine and then sucked on my bottom lip. He shifted his weight so both of his hands could cup my face to deepen the kiss, successfully filling my senses with him. He was all I could feel or smell or think about. George.

I could barely comprehend the _crack_ ripping through the room, but George ripped away from me to face a wide-eyed Fred, who dropped his glass of milk in surprise.

There was absolutely no way that I was going to stick around for that explanation. As soon as Fred opened his mouth to apologize or crack a joke or whatever it was he thought was appropriate at that most inappropriate time, I apparated to my bedroom. And when Ginny knocked on the door so I could wash up for dinner, I informed her (to my stomach's protests) that I did rather need a nap, so I would not be joining them for Christmas Eve dinner.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks so much for the reviews and alerts you've placed. It's great to know people enjoy the story! I haven't posted a disclaimer in a while, so just so you all are aware, I don't own any of this Harry Potter stuff. Mel is my creation, but this is all based off of JK Rowling's wonderful works. I only wish to someday be half as talented.<strong>

**Next chapter: **_**The Wisdom of Fred Weasley**_


	21. The Wisdom of Fred Weasley

"Don't drink the milk," Fred warned as Ginny sat down on the other side of me at the kitchen table. The youngest Weasley froze with her hand halfway towards the plate of chicken Fred was tasked with putting away as soon as I was finished, and she frowned at Fred and then me. Fred shook his head and wrinkled his nose to thoroughly warn her off the beverage, and I glared at my plate with the expert focus that only comes from experience.

"What's wrong with it?" she asked slowly, carefully studying me as I viciously stabbed my fork into some cauliflower. My stomach thoroughly protested "sleeping" through dinner, but Fred was rightfully concerned with giving me eating utensils.

"Dunno, but the way she's acting, I think someone pissed in it."

"Probably George," Ginny grumbled, pulling her hand away from the pitcher and turning towards the sink. It would be plain old water for Ginny that night. "Maybe she just woke up on the wrong side of the bed."

"Doubt it. She hasn't _been_ to bed." Fred shot me a look before returning to the parchment he was studying. "Unless she got up from the wrong side of the chair."

"I thought she…oh," Ginny nodded wisely as she took a sip of her water. "Maybe she's sleepy because she didn't take a nap when she pretended to take a nap and wants to take one now but is too hungry to take a nap because she pretended to take one during dinner and has to eat dinner now when she wants to take a nap!"

That was enough. I motioned towards my knife, and Fred lunged forward to grab my hand before I could pick up any object that could be used as a weapon.

"Gin," he grunted, "fork." Ginny frowned in confusion, but as I fought to free my hand from Fred's grasp, she grabbed my cauliflower-filled fork and attempted to pry it from my fingers.

"Lemme go!" I insisted, shaking one fist and then the other repeatedly to no avail. Overpowered by two Weasleys. This was why I would never take over the world. "Fre-ed, let _go-o_!"

"Drop the fork."

"I want my cauliflower."

He rolled his eyes, let go of my fist with one hand to swipe the knife out of my reach, and locked his gaze with mine. Ginny had no idea what was going on, but I could see the question written in his eyes. Could he trust me enough to give let me go? I bit my bottom lip and, when I let out the shaky pre-breakdown sigh that I'd been holding in all evening, my muscles all relaxed. I didn't have the will to fight them. What was I going to do, anyway? Stab Fred in the eye with cauliflower for talking like I wasn't in the room? He was clearly very aware of my presence.

"Gin." When she looked at her brother, he nodded softly, and she let me go. She kept her hands nearby in case she had to grab me again, but I only raised the fork to my mouth and took a satisfying bite. "Good. Now, get out."

"I just…"

"Gin. Out."

"Fred!"

"I could always tell Mum about the time you called Professor Sprout a nilly-headed grass eater."

"Fred!" Ginny gaped. "I never said that! You know I didn't say that. Mel, tell him I never said that!"

I had no idea what Fred was playing at, and I had a mouthful of vegetable, so I hesitated too long to come to Ginny's aid. She huffed, turned on her heel, and stomped out of the room, careful to end her fit before the portrait caught on that it was tantrum time.

"Good, she's gone!" Fred nodded happily. "So, talk to me."

"Aaav nuffik..."

"Chew, swallow, talk."

I made an exaggerated motion out of swallowing and putting my fork down. "Nothing's wrong."

"And I'm reading a letter in the middle of the night as I wait for you to eat your bloody food because it's perfectly innocent and my mum would love its contents. What's bothering you?"

"At the moment? I'm finding _you_ rather bothersome."

Fred rolled his eyes, folded his parchment, set it down, and turned to face me. "Alright, I'll talk to you. Was that the first time you snogged my brother?"

My stomach clenched, but I refused to let him know that. I rolled my eyes and stabbed my fork into my chicken. "Fred, don't be disgusting. Ron's, like, twelve."

"Right, Mel, I'm being serious here. Don't make me take that plate away from you." He leaned towards me to accent this point, so I gave in and nodded. "Why haven't you talked to him about it?"

"I have."

He leaned away and draped an arm over the back of his chair. "Liar."

"Well, he kissed me, Fred, and that's a technicality I find extremely important! If he wants to start snogging me, then he can bloody well start talking to me about it afterwards." I insisted, tossing my fork down. Fred held his hands up in casual defense. He knew I wasn't upset at him and didn't particularly feel the need to calm me down, but I appreciated even the slight gesture that showed he didn't want me upset. "How'd you even figure it out?"

"Erm, well, we _are_ twins. You should've seen him at dinner. Right grump. I couldn't even drag the story out of him, but his attitude combined with your sudden fondness for sleeping through meals? I figured an event preventing or proceeding the…" he hesitated, then clasped his hands together, "…part got you both all bothered. Seeing as George refuses to tell me anything, I'm hoping you can shed a bit of light, yeah?"

"Why won't George talk to you?" I deflected. It was rare that George and Fred kept something from the other, and I found it both worrisome and wonderful that I was enough trouble to be one of those things.

"I dunno, 'cuz he's a git like that?" Fred shrugged casually, as if it was common knowledge that he found George to be an idiot. "Now could you please tell me what is going on?"

I dropped my head into my hands. "It's gone all balls-up, Fred."

"As I've gathered, yeah."

"I don't know why he did that."

"Probably because he's fancied you for years."

"Shut up," I groaned. "When he asked me to the Yule Ball, did he mean that as a proper date?" Fred raised his eyebrows, pursed his lips to one side, and nodded slowly. "Shiiiiit."

"You mean you had no idea? Blimey, you really are thick, aren't you?"

"Shut up!" I ordered again, but Fred always could make me laugh. "I do like him, you know." Fred nodded. "I just don't know why he never said anything."

"Mel, honestly, you know George. He's not exactly…well, me." Oh, yes, because Fred was the portrait of honesty when it came to his feelings. I'd have to tell Angie about that one. "He's...y'know, not shy so much, just more reserved. Goes with the flow a bit more. Let's other people lead. He's the brains of the operation, but only after someone else comes up with the starting idea."

"He's shy," I rephrased.

"Well, I guess you could put it that way, yeah. He's not just going to shove you up against the wall and show you what manly stuff us Weasleys are made of."

"You have the eloquence that poets and wordsmiths only dream about."

"Oh, hush," Fred rolled his eyes. "Look, if you really do like George, you should talk to him. As utterly repulsive as it is to think of my best mate and my twin brother getting it on, you do make him happy, and I think you two might actually make good go of things. Don't let your bull head get in the way."

I was about to protest that I was not bullheaded in the slightest, but decided to forgo that thought when Fred held his arms out. A Weasley hug was worth swallowing a little pride for, so I threw my arms around him and let him sway me back and forth.

With his face still in my hair, he asked, "Now, I really am exhausted, but if I go to bed without putting this food away, Mum'll have my hide. Could you finish already?"

And that was the Fred Weasley I was proud to call my friend.

FGFGFGFGFG

It was rare that the kitchen of 12 Grimmauld Place was empty, so when I did not find it that way early Christmas morning, I was hardly surprised. It was maybe three or four in the morning when I finally gave up on trying to get a wink of sleep and shuffled downstairs to start a fire that I could stare into, giving my thoughts a focal point rather than rolling around in bed trying to get George out of my head.

When I entered the kitchen, though, the fire was already roaring with life, and the flames illuminated the shaggy hair of a man I had once been absolutely horrified of. A man that, two years ago, I would have been too petrified to move around. I grabbed a chair from the table and dragged it next to him by the fire, plopping down without a word. He glanced at me casually and turned back to the flames.

"Can't sleep, Melbecka?"

"Not a bit. Too much to think about. You?"

Sirius Black nodded. "Something like that."

We settled into silence, both focused on the flames. Someone fell off their bed upstairs, most likely Ron, and the thunk echoed through the house. Whoever it was didn't move for a long time, probably falling asleep again on the floor. So, probably Fred. Maybe George. No, George would get back up and at least attempt to climb into bed. We'd find him in the morning on top of the covers with a leg hanging off the mattress and a huge bruise somewhere from the impact. His hair would be all mussed up, sticking every which way, and when I asked him if he had a rough night, he'd look at me incredulously and ask why on earth I would think that. He and Fred would argue over who got to wear a particular shirt (Fred would win), and George would grab the same shirt in a different color. Pants were never a point worthy of discussion. I'd point out that he needed to brush his hair, and George would look at me like I'd suddenly sprouted a second head. He'd run a hand through it quickly, which would do absolutely nothing, flash me a boyish grin, and apparate to the kitchen.

Except, none of that would happen right now anyway. George and I were all wrong. Why were we all wrong? It was only a kiss. Just one foolish kiss. This sort of thing must happen to best friends all the time. It was just a hormonal rush that we would get over in a few days, and everything would go back to normal.

Nothing would go back to normal.

I didn't want them to. I wanted George. I wanted George to hold me when I was scared and kiss me whenever he bloody well felt like it and laugh with me (and at me, I suppose) and dream of me. I wanted George to love me. I just couldn't actually have any of that, no matter how simple Fred made it all seem.

"What's bothering you, Mel?"

Sirius's voice made me jump, but I threw an arm out to the side and managed to stay in my seat. "It's a long story. Not…it's not worth getting into right now."

Sirius studied me carefully, then shrugged. "All right."

We settled into silence again, both staring at the flames. And then it hit me. Why couldn't I tell Sirius? What would be so bad about that? Not everything of course, but some of it. The things I couldn't tell Fred or Angie. Sirius wouldn't tell anyone.

"Suppose you knew…something was going to happen. Something bad. Y-you don't know what or anything! Just…something. And, so, say, y'know, that you…care about someone. But this, em, _thing_, it's going to take you away from him one day. You can't let him get attached just to hurt him, right? No matter how badly you want to. Right?"

Sirius took in a deep breath, still looking at the fire. He let it out slowly, and took in another. I silently pleaded that he didn't ask for any elaborations that I couldn't give, and, thankfully, someone was listening. Maybe Sirius understood better than anyone else that sometimes there were just things you couldn't bring yourself to say.

"George already cares too much. You'll hurt him deeply either way."

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry I took a bit longer to get this one up. I've hit sort of a wall with my writing, not just with this story but in all regards. You should see the progress of my term paper. …Yeeeeah… But, I've written far enough ahead that I could at least post. Thanks for your patience!<strong>

**Next Chapter: **_**Brown Paper Packages**_


	22. Brown Paper Packages

When I woke up on Christmas Morning, I immediately ripped open my present from Mrs. Weasley and threw on the royal blue sweater with the bronze MH on the left breast. A warm wool sweater in Ravenclaw colors on a chilly Christmas morning was exactly what I needed. Angie sent me her usual present of a snow globe, knowing how fascinated I was with this display of muggle magic, and this particular one had the London Eye in the middle. Lupin, Sirius, and Moody had carefully wrapped copies of Arsenius Jigger's two latest potion books that I squealed happily over. Ron, Ginny, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had chipped in for a mortar and pestle set I'd had my eye on for a while, a gorgeous snowflake obsidian ensemble that I'd practically drooled over in Hogsmeade a year ago on a rare shopping excursion with the family. Hermione had knitted me…something. I think a scarf. Perhaps a rather narrow blanket. Harry got me a broom cleaning kit, and I wondered briefly if he'd known I'd gotten him the same thing before he'd been banned from quidditch and had to hastily substitute a large bag of Exploding Caramels. Odd.

Fred had shelled out quite a few galleons that I knew he shouldn't have wasted on a silver bracelet with little charms that alternated between quidditch, potions, and scholarly things. A broom, a cauldron, a raven, a snitch, a phial, a half-open textbook, and so on all the way around. I immediately put it on and smiled in awe as I twisted my wrist around to watch the charms clink against each other.

Still fascinated by Fred's heartwarmingly sweet gift (that boy always could give a good present), I reached towards my pile for George's. My hand swung through open air and squashed the awkwardly sized, soft package from the Diggory's that I shoved aside; I smacked my mattress about three or four times before realizing that George's gift wasn't there. I finally ripped my attention from the bracelet and stared at my bed. That was it. There was nothing else. No present from George.

As if on cue, there was a soft knock on my door just as I was about to apparate into the twins's room and demand an explanation. I bid my morning visitor in, and the door swung open slowly to reveal just the ginger I wanted to talk to that particularly cold morning.

"Hey, Mellie."

"Hey, George."

"I, em, didn't get your present in last night."

"I noticed. I gave you yours."

"Yeah…em…thanks for that. I really like it." He'd better. It's not every day one can find chewing gum that tastes perfectly normal for a solid minute before tasting rather like salty fish, during which time the hiccoughing solution has already taken place. When I saw it in Gambol & Japes, I knew immediately George would love it. "Can't wait to give some to Ron."

"I figured he would be your first victim."

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

George let our eloquent conversation drop and shifted his weight uncomfortably. I decided, prat that I am, not to help him along in the slightest, so I just fixed him with one of my endless stares and waited for him to make the first move. He felt my gaze even though he was focused on the floor, shifted his weight again, and took an awkward step into the room to close my door behind him.

"Look, Mellie, I messed things up yesterday."

"I know."

"I didn't mean to…well, I didn't want…well, I did, but…that's not…" he let out an exasperated sigh. "Can I start over?"

"I think that would be best, yeah."

George sucked in a deep breath, let it out slowly, and ran a hand agitatedly through his hair before trying his second attempt. "I like you, Mellie, honest. But, I don't want to mess up what we have over this if you don't feel the same way. You're my best mate, y'know, and I don't want to…not…be…your mate if I can't…be…em…"

"The other kind of mate?" I supplied without changing my expression in the slightest. Seeing him squirm was just going to have to make up for the present he had yet to give me.

George blushed, his whole face turning bright red at the word. He mumbled something completely incoherent and fixed his gaze firmly on his feet, which was just too bloody adorable for me to play games with.

"George, I do think you are making an awful lot of assumptions here." He raised his head halfway to see where I was going with this. "First of all, you never should assume you know how I feel. I think I've told you that at least once before. Maybe…maybe we…" I paused and squeezed my eyes shut, trying to swallow the non-Sight-related feeling in the pit of my stomach that this was a horrible idea. I knew, though, that Sirius was right. George and I were already in too deep. "Maybe we should give this thing a go."

"Yeah?" George grinned, and his boyish enthusiasm made me grin.

"Yeah," I chuckled. "And the first thing you can do is give me my bloody Christmas present."

FGFGFGFGFGFGFGF

"I see you two worked things out," Fred yawned as George and I, hand in hand, wandered into the twins' room. "You're welcome."

"Shove it up your arse, Fred," I rolled my eyes, sitting on George's bed with my knees hugged to my chest. George wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me over so my head rested on his shoulder.

"Nice bracelet."

"Thanks. A twat gave it to me."

Fred grinned at that and motioned to the silver raven charm hanging from a delicate chain around my neck, George's present that came with matching earrings hidden by my hair. "A twat give you that, as well?"

"No, this came from a dunderhead."

George elbowed me, and I grinned. "Get a response from Angie yet?" he asked his twin.

"Nah, not yet," Fred mumbled, picking at the edge of a giant box of Filibuster Fireworks (my present) with his thumb. "I think she hates me."

"She doesn't," I assured him. "Believe me, she's actually rather…"

"Shhhh," George interrupted, sitting bolt upright so his shoulder smacked into my jaw and forced my head away. Our first attempt to cuddle as a semi-official couple-in-the-making (a title all girls dream of…) just had to end in pain. "D'you hear that?"

"All I hear is your fat mouth interrupting something very important," Fred grunted impatiently. "She's actually rather what, Mel?"

"She's actually rather fond…"

"Would you two _listen_?" George snapped, lunging for his pillow to yank out the hidden Extendable Ear. He flung it at Fred, who caught it with a death glare only Fred Weasley could master, and pointed so his brother knew where to aim. Fred obediently, albeit grudgingly, obliged.

"Cor, what is she crying about on Christmas morning?" Fred groaned before _crack_ing from the room. George apparated right after his brother, and I rolled my eyes and followed. I was not about to be left behind on Christmas morning.

Mrs. Weasley was indeed sobbing on Christmas morning, alone in the kitchen with a poor, bedraggled owl heaving for air on the table in front of her, an unopened package between them.

"Mum. Mum!" George began, bending down beside her.

"Mum, what's wrong?" Fred added. I hovered awkwardly to the side, feeling like I had stepped into the middle of a family scene I did not belong in.

Mrs. Weasley blubbered some incoherent sounds and began to reach for the package. Halfway towards it, though, her hands lost their will to carry on and slapped back against her face just in time to cover a fresh round of sobs. The twins looked at each other wide-eyed before immediately turning to me as if I held some kind of answer.

So, I did what I felt was the most logical thing and picked up the package she'd been reaching for. The boys watched me expectantly as I examined the familiar print addressing the unopened package to a P. Weasley. Of course.

I handed the parcel to George and watched as realization immediately dawned on him, and he passed it to Fred so his twin could see as well. Fred tossed their brother's callously-returned present aside and joined George in wrapping an arm around their mother.

"Just ignore Percy, Mum," Fred insisted gently.

"You know what he's like now," George added.

"If it'll make you happy, I'll wear his sweater and mine."

They continued that way for a while, saying things that did absolutely nothing to quell their mother's sobs. I wanted to do something, anything, to help, but I could not think of what on earth could help her in this moment. Her own son, her flesh and blood, had returned a handmade Christmas present without even opening it. That's not something one gets over easily.

And in thinking that, a wave of grief washed over me suddenly as I remembered the one thing I'd wanted to forget. The Diggory's present. The brown rectangle wrapped with twine was still sitting on my bed untouched because of the morning's distractions. I hadn't spoken to the Diggory's in quite some time, as if avoiding Cedric's parents could somehow help, but for Christmas I had sent them a framed copy of a photograph Cedric and I from just after the Ravenclaw/Hufflepuff match our fifth year. It's original sat on my nightstand in the Ravenclaw dormitory, one of my arms thrown across his shoulders and my other fist triumphantly thrown in the air with Cedric's hands jokingly wrapped around my neck as he pretended to choke me after we had royally handed Hufflepuff their puffs on a puffle. It was the last match we'd ever played against each other since they'd canceled the cup for the Triwizard. I'd introduced him to Cho on the way back to the castle because she had been drooling over him from afar for entirely too long but completely wimped out whenever the chance to actually speak to him came up. That picture captured one of our best days together.

So, while Fred and George continued to fail at soothing their mother, I took a few steps back and apparated up to my room. Immediately, I crawled on my bed and picked up the package. It took several slow, meditative breaths to steady my hands before I felt comfortable enough to pull open the twine, which I threw towards Wooster, who was more than happy to play with it. On a small slip of paper in neat handwriting made sloppy by shaking hands, the words, "He saved every one. Happy Christmas," stared back at me.

I tore away at the wrapping to reveal the rest of the package, and the Diggory's gift made my stomach twist and my eyes prickle with tears that suddenly sprung to life.

Letters. All the letters we had exchanged over the years. I had his saved in a little chest at home, and some of the more recent or emotional ones were on me in this troubling time, and here were my counterparts, the responses to all of his letters. Just like me, he had saved every one. I now had every conversation we had ever shared through mail.

Feeling quite thankful that I had slipped away unnoticed, I grabbed the first one and began to read.

* * *

><p><strong>So…many…papers… I hate this point in the semester so so much! I will update again as soon as I can. Thank you for all your patience and for reading and reviewing. It's so great to know people enjoy my story!<strong>

**Next Chapter: **_**Dear Melbecka**_


	23. Dear Melbecka

_Dear Cedric,_

_ Sorry to hear about your mum. Hope she feels better. Maybe if you weren't such a horrible child that she had to be ashamed of, you wouldn't have these problems. I would probably also purposely catch a disease so as not to be seen in public with you. And I _choose_ to spend time with you. Imagine being forced to do so by familial ties! It's a wonder she didn't realize years ago that she could just "get sick" and not have to deal with you._

_ All kidding aside, though, if she keeps giving you trouble I could probably brew something that'd make her get over it._

_ That's a terrible idea. Why would you even consider that, Cedric? This is why your mum doesn't like you. How could you even smile at the thought of magically forcing your mother to be cheerful in such a time of physical distress? Don't deny it. I know you smiled. You probably even laughed. Evil, ungrateful child._

_ My holidays are looking rather dull. Presents with Mum, which most likely will consist of some new shoes (which I do so dearly need) and maybe a package of sweets if she isn't worried about accidental poisonings or choking to death. Angie and I are going shopping in muggle London with her father later this week. That's always fun. It'll be the highlight of the holidays, I suppose. _

_ I can't wait to get back to school. It's so much more exciting than this old place._

_ Can't wait to see you again. Maybe I'll even go bonkers and get you a present._

_ Probably not._

_ Your dearest friend (and secret love, I know. But ours is a love that can never be, Ced, and I order you to get over this ridiculous crush of yours. I will be forced to tell Cho one of these days! I will! I swear!) (Mrs. Diggory, if you have intercepted this letter, that is a complete falsehood. I would never tell Cho…)_

_ The Glorious Melbecka Rose Harper _

FGFGFGFGFGFGFGFG

_Dear Melbecka,_

_ First of all, I did laugh at the idea of giving my mother a potion. The notion that I would ever let her ingest anything created by you is absolutely gut-busting._

_ Second of all, who are you to tell me who to love, Mel? If my heart cries out for you, it shall cry with all its might. Of course you know, you must know, that this entire Triwizard bit I'm doing is for you. It's all for you. When I win and have the glory and money and fame, maybe then I will be good enough for you. I only live to please your petty, petty heart._

_ No, but seriously, did you know what Cho was getting me for Christmas? If you encouraged her to give me a Tornados poster and scarf, I'll hurt you. What exactly do I do with all this? I can't hang a Tornados poster in the dormitory. Well, I can, but I'd rather not have to look at that. I know we haven't exactly been dating for all that long, but the Tornados? Really? And I will never wear that scarf. Ever. Do you know what I got her? A silver C necklace. It's beautiful. So my mum says. This is hardly fair turnabout. _

_ I do like Cho and all, really. It's not really fair to expect a brilliant present from her so quickly. We just sort of started, haven't we? That was all far too critical, wasn't it? It was. That was terrible. She really is brilliant. Well, of course she's brilliant, she's a Ravenclaw. That's not what I meant. I meant that she's lovely. No, that's not what I meant either. She is lovely; she's beautiful, but I mean that she's wonderful. She's wonderful even if she sends me bad presents, because I know she did try. It's hardly her fault she was raised to support a rubbish team. She's still witty and clever and beautiful. Mel, you should have heard her at the Yule ball. You would have been so proud, the way she was tearing into those Beuaxbaton girls. I would have thought I'd gone with you, except she was so much quieter. There were these times she'd just sort of turn in on herself and I'd have no idea what she was thinking. I liked that. I liked feeling like she was watching me as I got us drinks and knowing that she only saw me when we were dancing. There's something really wonderful about her._

_ Did that make me sound like a girl? Do not judge me, Mel. Who's the one that hangs around with the Weasley twins? _

_ Thank you for the sketch of Queerditch Marsh. I don't know where on earth you found it, but I added it to my Quidditch memorabilia and it looks great. Brilliant. _

_ So, I still can't figure this egg thing out. It just keeps screaming, which reminds me that I never quite apologized for opening it while you were sleeping. Sorry about that. _

_ Alright, I walked away from this letter because I got a burst of inspiration for the egg. It didn't work. What if I can't do this, Mel? I mean, not just the egg. All of it. You were right at the start; this tournament is bloody dangerous. There's a reason they stopped it. I worry about some of the other competitors. Fleur seems so delicate; if the first task was dragons, what could they possibly throw at us next, and how is she going to be able to handle it? Harry Potter? He's only a 4__th__ year. He doesn't know half of what he needs to get through this. It feels like Krum and I are the only ones that can really handle this, and I can't even figure out how to open a bloody egg without it screaming at me. _

_ I'm sorry, too, that I brushed off your concerns when I entered the tournament. I never should treat you like you don't know what you're talking about. I know you were brought up to be more concerned than the rest of us, so I just get so used to easing your fears that I probably got a bit callous._

_ Maybe you were right. Maybe someone is going to die from this. _

_ Sorry, Mel, I don't mean to be so depressing on Christmas Day! Hope you got everything you wanted and no Tornadoes posters! _

_ Cedric_

_ P.S. Never tell Cho I hate her present. Please._

FGFGFGFGFGFG

It amazed me how a simple letter could make me laugh and cry in a matter of minutes. Cedric's Christmas Day letter had been at the bottom of my trunk, carefully tucked in between the pages of a book I hadn't read in years, since I'd packed my things at the end of last year. I had not read it since he'd died, and I found his words just as poignant now as I had then.

Cedric had never known about my ability. When I told him I had a feeling someone would die in the Triwizard, he didn't know to take me seriously. Then again, I doubt I could have stopped him anyway. That tournament meant everything to him. He loved it.

A smile tugged at my mouth as I reread the letter. We always had joked about our pretend romance. It had been a cause of laughter between us for as long as I could remember, one of those jokes that develop between friends with no starting point you can recall or reason behind it. Cedric had never looked at me that way. I'd spent a large portion of my summer wondering what it would have been like if he had. What if it had been me, not Cho, waltzing with him at the Yule Ball? What would that have been like?

As I began the letter yet again, I realized that time had done me some good. I had spent nearly every waking moment from the time of Cedric's death until the start of school beating myself up for not telling him that I had a Feeling about the tournament. Lying in bed at night, especially after a heart-to-heart with George or a day where I was acutely aware of Cedric's absence, the thought came back to me, eating away at the sensible part of my mind that knew there was nothing I could have done, until I felt I was going mad. Now, though, the thought only prickled in the back of my mind. Was there any way I could have convinced him not to put his name in the Goblet?

As if waiting for exactly that moment to interrupt my thoughts, the door to my room creaked open slowly, and the bushy head of Hermione Granger peaked in. She offered a questioning smile, and I waved her in while trying to simultaneously smile as if nothing were wrong and use the sleeve of my new sweater to wipe away the tears that Hermione quite clearly saw. Hermione sat down on the edge of the bed, moving some of the older letters that I'd read hours ago. Apparently, my presence was finally being missed.

"Do, eh, d'you need me for something?" I asked, attempting to sound casual.

Hermione shook her head. "No. No, actually, they're going to visit Mr. Weasley soon, but I didn't think you'd want to go to that." I knew they called that girl brilliant for a reason. St. Mungo's was possibly my least favorite place. Parading through an entire building dedicated to the horrible outcomes of dangerous events I may someday enounter? I think not. "Fred and George were wondering about you, though. Said you sneaked off earlier. I convinced them to let me handle it; despite the friendship the three of you had, I assumed that whatever kept you holed away in your room for hours on Christmas Day was most likely not something you wanted that lot trying to help you with."

I smirked. "No, not really. Thanks, Hermione."

"Yeah, of course," she nodded, casually picking up an old letter I'd written to Cedric from probably third or fourth year. Her eyes skimmed it casually as we sat in silence, both waiting for the other to talk. Since she was the one to enter my room, though, it would have to be her that kept this conversation going. "Did I ever tell you how sorry I was about Cedric?"

"I hate when people apologize over someone's death. You didn't kill him. Don't tell me you're sorry."

"Oh, I didn't mean it like that. I'm sorry I never get to know him better. I'm sorry no one got to know him better. The whole school thought they had him all figured out; they watched every move he made from what broom he flew to the way he tied his shoes and thought that meant they knew what kind of man he was. They spent months marching around with this 'Remember Cedric' mantra, but they weren't really remembering Cedric, were they? Not the way you knew him. You knew a completely different man, far removed from the perfect image the rest of us had of the dashing young hero fighting dragons and getting the girl." She turned the letter over in her hand to see if there was more on the back, which there wasn't, and returned the parchment carefully onto my bed to pick up another. "Hardly seems right. He became this symbol of the casualties of war, and no one even really knew him."

"No," I shook my head, "no one knew the first thing about him."

"It's a shame. Everyone thinks of brave, stoic, loyal Cedric Diggory who never abandoned a person in need and always got to class on time. No one thinks of goofy, slightly off-color Cedric who swore at his friends and stole library books."

"How'd you find out about that?" I snapped my head up. Cedric had taken exactly five library books in his Hogwarts career, one for each year attended. The first one was an accident; he'd apparently heard his mother mention a way around getting a library fine in an off-the-cuff remark at dinner one day, attempted the spell in a panic one day when realizing his book was about to be overdue, botched it, and stumbled upon the most brilliant discovery of any Hogwarts student. Still can't explain why he made an annual ritual of it. I'd stolen one last year for him, though I'd been scared out of my wits to try it. Point was, the books were our thing. Cedric and me. Cho didn't even know about them. Neither one of us ever told her.

"I was looking for a potions book last year, maybe a month after the first challenge, and couldn't find it. I really needed it, too, because this paper we had to write…" I held up my hand to stop her rambling. "Right, so I was getting a bit frantic, and it was nearing curfew, and I guess he felt bad since I was completely losing my mind in the middle of the library on a Saturday night. So, he offered to loan me his copy of the book. Well, of course I only had the thing for a few minutes before figuring out where he got it from, and I would not give him peace until he confessed."

I laughed. "Cedric never had any willpower. You probably asked him twice if it was the library's copy, right?"

"Three times," she half-smirked, and I chuckled. "He never would have held up in an interrogation, would he?"

"Not if the interrogator was a pretty girl, no," I shook my head. Hermione's face turned scarlet. "He always was a sucker for pretty girls with big brains. And I mean that in a purely non-sexual way. He really dug smart birds."

"I don't think…it wasn't…well, he didn't…"

"Hermione," I laughed, "I'm not saying that Cedric carried the flame of undying love for you. I'm just saying he probably harmlessly flirted a bit, which you were clearly too oblivious to notice. He was just like that. Drove Cho mad, but he could always charm her right out of whatever mood she was in. He just had that way to him; he could get anything he wanted with a couple smooth words and that lopsided smile."

Hermione chuckled. "See, and no one remembers things like that."

"Yeah, well, no one's really walking around preaching the 'Remember Cedric' way much at all any more, are they?" I grumbled. "No one even thinks You-Know-Who is back nowadays."

"You do."

"I don't matter."

"You matter a lot," Hermione shook her head. "Look at you, Mel. Other than an unfounded fondness for rabble-rousers, you have no reason to be here. Yeah, alright, there's your father, but you don't even remember him. How much does that really mean to you? And, if it means a lot, I apologize right now."

I thought about that for a moment, staring blankly at my bed sheets. Hermione either understood the hollow emptiness of my gaze or knew this was just the way I was sometimes; either way, she said nothing. Truthfully, she'd hit the nail right on the head. My father barely ever crossed my mind. He had the day that George and I first discussed the Order. Occasionally, my mother would mention him. Over the summer, I'd spent a lot of time staring at old photographs and imaging what it would have been like to spend just one day as a normal girl with a normal family and normal magic and normal problems. But, especially in recent months, my father had not entered my thoughts even once.

"I'm not here for him," I agreed quietly.

"Of course you're not," Hermione shook her head primly. "You're not here for those twins, either. You're doing this all for something else."

"For the record, I was kidnapped. I fully intended to spend my Christmas tucked safely in my bed."

"That's not what I mean," Hermione smiled. "You could easily be spending your days locked away in this room, but you care. You watch people come into the house and argue with Mrs. Weasley about leaving the kitchen when meetings start. You really want to do this, be part of this. There's a reason for that, and you know deep down what that reason is. I think, and I might be completely off base with this, though I doubt it, that at least part of that reason is Cedric."

She let this idea begin to wrestle its way into my mind, butting heads with my entire concept of why I was at 12 Grimmauld Place, for several silent moments before finally standing up. After a short sigh and a quick stretch, she offered a smile.

"Well, I do plan on going to the hospital, so I should be going. See you at dinner, Mel."

"Yeah," I mumbled absently. "Oh, Hermione?" She turned back in the doorway. "Have I ever told you that you, Ron, and Harry drive me absolutely bonkers? Your little Golden Trio thing…it makes me want to vomit."

Hermione rolled her eyes and smirked. "And here I was expecting a thank-you."

"I was getting to that."

She laughed and left my room, careful to shut the door behind her. As soon as it firmly latched, the smile vanished from my face. Why had I not thought about why I wanted to join the Order so badly? A secret organization that could get me killed for knowing about it, let alone helping, was hardly the sort of thing I should even consider. Yet it was the only thing I really wanted to do. Hermione was right. I finally had the motivation to do something that absolutely horrified me, made my stomach knot, shook me right to my core. My father wasn't enough. The Weasleys weren't enough. The protection of muggle-borns wasn't enough. I'm not even sure George was enough.

All of that plus Cedric's death, though? _That_ was enough. Any time I may doubt what I was doing in the same house as the most wanted man in all of Britain, Dumbledore's words rang clear in my head as if to remind me.

_ Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory._

* * *

><p><strong>I am SO amazingly sorry it took me so long to update. I got really overwhelmed with school work for a while and then, of course, I got walloped with the bug going around campus. I'm finally starting to feel better and am all caught up on the writing that I have to turn in, so here's your update. The next one will be really super soon to make up for this, I swear. Again, I'm so sorry!<strong>

**Next chapter: **_**Unexpected Disruptions**_


	24. Unexpected Disruptions

My sleeping habits quickly worsened as Christmas faded away and the New Year approached. I found myself extremely thankful to have the rare luxury of a room to myself; had I been sharing with Ginny as originally planned, someone would have noticed how I tossed and turned until the wee hours of the morning until falling into a fitful sleep that lasted until maybe sunrise if I was lucky. Once again, I found that I appreciated Hermione's presence. That room was just too cramped with the three of us, and those two got along better; I adored Ginny, but she did have a tendency to borrow my clothes without asking that led to rather ugly fits.

On one of my unlucky mornings, I was up when the sky was still the dark grey of early morning, body wide awake and too restless to stay in bed. Anymore, my mind wandered far too much to even curl up under the covers as I waited for a more reasonable time to make my appearance. Once I woke up, I had to get up. So, on that morning, I Apparated to the kitchen and filled a kettle with water. Eventually, someone would join me, most likely Sirius or Lupin. So far, they were the only two that noticed that I was an "early riser". Lupin might have suspicions that something was playing at my mind, since he knew from our first period DADA classes that I was not exactly fond of mornings, but neither man said anything to me or anyone else. At least not that I knew of.

Since I was alone, however, I was the only one to be scared witless by the unmistakable sound of the front door opening. At first, I thought nothing of it, assuming that Moody or Tonks had come for some sort of business. The stride wasn't right, though, and the unfamiliar footfalls made me freeze in fear. Who knew about us? I reached instinctively for my wand, snatching it from the table just as the kitchen door swung open. It was a reflex to have my wand pointed at the entrant's heart, but I was surprised nonetheless at my ruthlessness. I wasn't even sure what hex it was that my mouth had started to form, but Professor Severus Snape had his wand out and pointed at me before I could fully finish he word anyway.

When Snape realized who was attached to the threatening bit of wood, the tension immediately melted from his muscles, his shoulders slumped, and his eyes rolled heavenward. "Miss Harper, I am constantly amazed at the level of mastery you have achieved at being a complete irritant."

"Why are you in my kitchen?"

"At last check, this kitchen did not, in fact, belong to you, Miss Harper. When did this change of ownership take place?"

I rolled my eyes and finally lowered my wand, so Snape did the same. "How'd you get in here?"

"That is absolutely none of your concern," he sniffed. "Though, while I have you here, I have something that may be of interest to you." I frowned, easing back down into my chair. "Your potion."

"My potion?" I exclaimed, leaping back to my feet. Snape started and squeezed his eyes shut in irritation, an expression I saw all too often from him. "What does it do?"

"Quite curious, actually," he sniffed, producing a phial from the folds of his robes. He held it out to me, and I took it as cautiously as if he was offering an ancient heirloom or a newborn kitten. "Once I discovered the proper brew time, which you never would have managed to stumble upon despite what luck brought you to the potion itself, it all seemed quite clear."

"So, what does it _do_?" I repeated anxiously. Snape rolled his eyes at my impatience.

"You stumbled upon a rather unusual form of truth serum." I frowned and cocked my head to the side. Truth serum? What had I done to do that? "Of sorts. It's more of a memory potion." That did absolutely nothing to clear my confusion, a fact that must have been written clearly on my face because Snape rolled his eyes again and continued to elaborate. "For a short time after ingesting the potion, the subject will react as they normally would to whatever the circumstances may be, but then will forget the span of time between ingestion and when the potion wears off."

"So, they just lose, what, an hour of their lives without any question?"

"Miss Harper, your penchant for interrupting is most unbecoming."

"Sorry, sir," I mumbled, biting back the urge to force him to hurry up this explanation.

"As the potion begins to wear off, there is a brief span of time when a…suggestion…could be made."

"You tell them what may have happened, and their mind fills in the rest so they aren't even aware that they lost time," I filled in finally, and Snape nodded.

"Something of that ilk, yes. Really a most brilliant find. It is a wonder that you managed to produce the groundwork for such a potion."

Swallowing the point that I had done more than the "groundwork", another question came into my mind that simply could not be forgotten now that I had it. "Professor, em, how did you, well, how did you _discover_ this? You didn't…" I let the sentence trail off, knowing he understood where I was going with it.

Snape eyed me levelly for several seconds in completely silence, which only made me feel more uneasy. Oh, Merlin, he tested it on people. He gave it to a real person.

"I will get you a more substantive brew time when you return to school. Now, I do believe that Mrs. Weasley gets particularly upset if her children are out of bed at ungodly hours of the night, so I suggest you make yourself scarce before she catches on."

Ah, yes. Molly Weasley. This was hardly the time to be caught out of bed. Although I had developed quite a fondness for walking as of late, I took my teacup and Apparated back up to my room to avoid the chance of encountering her on the stairs. I could do my brooding just as well upstairs.

Except that I couldn't. Once my feet were firmly on the floor of my bedroom, my eyes widened as George, arms crossed, stared at me from my bed.

"And where have you been, madam?" he questioned, deepening his voice for Merlin knows what reason.

"I…em…tea," I fumbled, jiggling my tea cup to solidify the lie. "Why…what if I'd been asleep? You can't just barge into my room, George!"

"I didn't," he yawned, stretching an arm out as an invitation for me to curl up beside him, an invitation I found myself much too eager to accept. "I knocked three whole times and you never answered, so I assumed you died in your sleep and popped in to see if it was true."

I rolled my eyes up at the ceiling and let out a snort, and George rubbed my shoulder playfully with the arm dragged across it. "You are impossible, you know that?"

"Says the girl who had a burning desire for tea at six in the morning."

"There was a bird or something outside. Woke me up," I grumbled, waving towards the window with one hand as I took a sip with the other.

"Yes, those birds are often known for their volume and might," he nodded, nuzzling his nose against my cheek.

"Oh, hush," I laughed, lightly smacking his chest. "What has you awake now, anyway?"

"Mmm," he hummed, finally resting his cheek against the side of my head. "Fred was snoring like a congested bear. Between that, those _darn birds_, and the muttering, I couldn't stay in there another minute. Figured I'd pay you a visit, and good thing I did, because you might have been dead."

"Three knocks with no reply is not enough to decide I'm dead," I insisted, but I couldn't help the smile tugging at my mouth. I set my teacup down and wormed my way around so I could comfortably lay semi-propped up with my head on his chest. "What was Fred muttering about?"

"Oh, you know," George said too lightly, gently brushing his fingers through my hair, "the same as always."

"You've never mentioned that he mutters before. I never noticed him muttering in his sleep. How long has he been muttering in his sleep?" I tilted my head up sharply to stare George down, and he purposely avoided my gaze.

"I don't know, Mel. A while. I couldn't tell you when it started. It's been years. One of those puberty things, I s'pose."

"_George_," I insisted sharply. H balked at my tone of voice and decided that he should probably give up this one brotherly secret for the sake of his sanity in this strange relationship we were forming. Smart move, too, because I would never let the subject go. Ever.

"I dunno. It's always random stuff, I guess. Angie mostly. Just her name, nothing special. Sometimes Zonko's or something. A couple weeks ago, he got out an entire sentence. Said, 'You will never take me alive, Filch,' and I did my best to pretend I never heard it, so don't ask what he was dreaming about when he said it." I rolled my eyes to show George I was not about to ask that and swallowed the question that had popped into my head.

Instead, I asked, "What was he muttering about tonight?"

"Angie."

"That's not healthy."

"It's perfectly fine," George insisted, kissing the top of my head and squeezing my shoulders reassuringly. "He's done it for years. Don't you worry about Freddy. He's just fine. Worry about important things, like how my mum would murder the both of us if she knew I was in here right now."

"George!" I exclaimed, realizing that he was absolutely correct. Molly would kill me if she knew I was cuddling up to her son at six in the morning, in my bedroom, unsupervised, in our pajamas. "You have to go away!"

"I don't," he laughed, tilting my chin up so he could brush his lips against mine ever so gently, which was oddly reassuring. "She's downstairs with Snape. We're fine."

"Don't tell me to worry about it then tell me not to worry!" I whined.

George simply smirked and pulled me in for a longer kiss that made me forget all about Mrs. Weasley and Fred and You-Know-Who and Umbridge and Cedric and everything else. All that mattered was his lips against mine, the way his heart seemed to beat in perfect synchronization with mine. It was almost enough to make me forget that George was the one I should really be worrying about.

* * *

><p><strong>Next Chapter: <strong>_**Return to Hogwarts**_


	25. Return to Hogwarts

My sleeping habits did not improve upon our return to Hogwarts. If anything, they worsened, as did other "aspects" of my life. A Feeling in the Room of Requirement nearly doubled me over (which upset dear, brave Neville) during an Army meeting. Another hit me on the way to the dungeons for Potions one day, but, with this one, there was no Fred to catch me, no Angelina to shield me and hide my fear from the crowd that gathered around, no Lee to wipe the sweat from my brow, no George to wrap his arms around me and naively tell me that everything would be just fine. Instead, I had Bradley and Chambers, who didn't notice I had stopped walking, and Roger, who suggested I skip class and go to the Hospital Wing (he never did quite get how these things work). Needless to say, these events did not help me find comfort in the darkness of night.

On the bright side, I found that I could get a lot of work done since I no longer had to waste precious time with something as trivial as sleep. After deciding that taking potions to help me sleep would only become habit forming and would not solve my problems in the long run, I took to getting my homework done in those wee hours of the morning. Considering I was a Ravenclaw, after all, this meant getting future homework done. By the second week back, I was nearly two months ahead. I work fast. I had to do something, though, because I could not help but imagine the worst in the darkness; every bump and creak of the ancient castle was a beast on the loose in my mind.

My friends did notice, of course. Katie was the first to point out that I had bags under my eyes, and Alicia was quick to add that I yawned a lot. Angie then took to scrutinizing my every move and asked why I was so sluggish, to which I responded so maturely by asking why she was so fat. Thankfully, our friendship could withstand these trials.

My relationship with George, on the other hand, was not quite so tried-and-true. He was worried about me, and everyone could see it. He wouldn't question me, as I made it quite clear over through a rather uncalled-for outburst over breakfast one Saturday that I was fed up with their concern, but he gave me every opportunity to open up to him. Sentences left hanging, hints dropped, knowing looks. I just never took him up on the offer.

Which is probably why Fred got involved. Well, as involved as Fred ever would.

"Alright," Fred grunted, plopping down next to me in the library. I admit it, I screamed at the sight of him. No, it was not my proudest moment, but if you saw Fred in the library, you would probably have a fit, too. "You know people can hear you, right?"

"Well, don't…attack me!" I insisted, pulling my herbology book out from under his elbow gruffly. "You know I hate it when you sneak up on me!"

"So, you screamed. Makes perfect sense," he rolled his eyes. "Why are you making George act like a girl?"

"Excuse me?"

"Georgie. He's moping around about you. All the time, he's talking about what your problem is or why you aren't talking to him or 'Mel this', 'Mel that', and it's driving me bonkers."

"Well, you can assure him that I am perfectly fine," I grunted, propping my head on my hand so the back of my head was to the eldest Weasley twin. Fred growled in frustration.

"I'm not telling him a thing. You two sort it out. Or, better yet, just get over yourself. Look," he held his hands up so that when I whirled on him with my death glare he already had some form of protection, "I know you Know things and it's a lot to deal with. You have all these things in your head, and I'm sure you don't tell us even half of them. I understand that, I'm fine with that, and I'm even glad. I don't want to know those things. It's just that George does. You don't have to bear the world's secrets on your own shoulders anymore. Give him a chance, yeah?"

The resolve melted almost instantly at the softness on Fred's face. He watched my anger subside and allowed me to throw my arms around him in a hug that probably caught him off guard. After a moment, he wrapped his arms around me in return.

"I wish I could tell him everything, Fred. I really do."

"I know," he murmured. "Just do what you can."

Presumably, their twin telepathy was working at the height of its power that day, because my conversation with Fred came not a day too soon. It was as if he knew that his brother planned to talk to me that night, though I know this was the one thing they would not discuss. They liked to talk about girls, sure, but not the serious parts of relationships. Boys will be boys, after all. So, it was pure coincidence that brought George to me only hours after his brother.

I wasn't even aware that I'd been staring in to the fire, mind completely blank, until the common room door swung open. I gasped at the noise and whirled around, ready to ream into one of my friends for being out so late (because only my friends would be wandering around past curfew), but the sight of my George beaming at the common room silenced me.

"You were right," he breathed at the star-filled sky outside our window, a breathtaking sight that I had long ago learned to ignore. "The answer _is _always darkness."

"What in Merlin's name are you doing here, George?"

He shrugged and casually sank down next to me on the window seat. "What're you making?" I frowned at him, so he rolled his eyes and motioned to my cauldron. "Your bubbling blue concoction?"

"Oh, yeah," I muttered, shaking my head at my forgetfulness. "Trying to recreate a potion I made earlier this year. Snape made some brew-time changes, and I wanted to see if it would work out for me."

"You decided to do this at 3 am?"

I crossed my arms defensively across my chest. "You decided to criticize my 3 am activities at 3 am?"

"Excellent point," George nodded. "Why don't you sleep anymore?"

"I sleep," I muttered, tossing in a porcupine quill with a bit too much vigor. "Who says I don't sleep?"

"I have my sources," George shrugged noncommittally. "Including my eyes, which see you awake right now. Mel," he lowered his head to force eye contact between us, "what's going on in there?"

"You mean in my head?" I wrinkled my nose to show that I thought he was being ridiculous, even though he was doing exactly the type of thing that made me care so much about him. "The same things that are always going on."

"Which is what?"

I half-laughed and gave my potion a half-hearted stir. I would have to restart this brew anyway, so this was now just an excuse to look away from George. "You don't want to know."

"I do. I asked."

"George," I turned back to him, "you don't understand. The Feelings I get, the-the things I Know, it's not a game. I don't just Feel like it's going to snow tomorrow or that you're keeping a big secret from me. I mean, I get things like that, but there are things so much bigger than that. I get these Feelings about people a-and events and places and they are so…so _big_, George. So powerful. And I can't tell you those. I want to tell you, and I know you want to be told, but I can only handle them because I have to handle them. If I didn't, if they were just unloaded on me all of a sudden, I couldn't do that. And George, no matter how prepared you think you are, there are things you won't be ready for, either. You won't be able to look at people the same way, and you won't be able to stop trying to figure out the mystery that these things create. It'll drive you mad, and I can't do that to you."

"Mel…" George started, but I silenced him by taking his face in my hands and staring straight into his eyes to show just how serious this was.

"If I really mean something to you, then that means that you must trust me at least a bit. If you trust me at all, then I need you to trust me right now. I'm the only one that really understands this thing."

George turned his face towards my hand and nuzzled his nose against the side of my palm, eyes close. When he stopped, I rested my forehead against his and allowed him to gently brush his lips against mine.

"I do trust you. I do _care_ about you, Mel. That's why I want you to know that you can tell me whatever you need to tell me. If there's ever that…thing…that you can't hold on your own, well, I'm sure you'll be able to find me."

"You're upset."

"Yeah," he admitted. "But, I understand. You do whatever you think is best. Just do me a favor, yeah?" I nodded. "Go to bed. Get some sleep." He pulled back to ruffle my hair, which made me grumble involuntarily. "You need your beauty rest."

I gaped in mock offense. "And you, dunderhead, need to leave my common room before I report you."

"Report me?" George raised his eyebrows. "You wouldn't dare."

"Don't try me," I pointed menacingly. George laughed, grabbed my hand and held on as he dropped it down to my lap, and pressed his lips against mine in a dizzying kiss.

"Goodnight, luv. Sleep well."

I smiled and waved good-bye, careful not to let the façade drop until the common room door was firmly shut behind him.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading! If you've got any thoughtssuggestions/comments/whatever, leave a review. I love seeing what you think.**

**I don't have a title for the next chapter yet because I may combine two things that I originally planned on dividing into two chapters. I'm rethinking bits of this, including how I want it to end (which is awhile away, and I may have to ask your opinion about that…). But, it'll be up soon. My week is actually pretty open with a fair amount of writing time!**


	26. Would You Want to Know If I Knew?

I whistled softly to myself on my way to the Great Hall, looking forward to a quiet study session away from the mid-Friday bustle of the library, prime time for Ravenclaws to take over the place. When the staircase I was on moved sooner than I anticipated, though, I decided to take the long way around. Why not? I had all weekend to study, after all. I could use a good walk.

I was just coming down a flight of stairs that would put me back on the floor I needed when I heard hoofbeats from an intersecting hallway. Hoofbeats. That had to be, without a doubt, the new divination teacher. What was his name again? Realizing I would not remember it no matter how hard I tried, I settled instead for speeding up so I did not run into the centaur at all. Part of me greatly mourned this missed opportunity to learn from a centaur; to understand how such a mystical creature understood the Sight would make a world of difference given my situation. The rest of me, though, was terrified of him. Half man, half horse? I wouldn't be able to stop staring at the tail.

I just passed the intersection without even glancing at Trelawney's replacement when the hoofbeats stopped. I let out a deep sigh that I was not even aware that I'd been holding in and smiled to myself. No centaur interactions today!

Or, so I thought.

"Melbecka Harper."

I froze in my tracks, and I swear that my heart actually stopped beating for a moment. His voice startled me that much. Very slowly, I turned to find that he was now in my hall, staring at me with wide, unassuming eyes, the same stare I gave so many people. Damn. That stare _was_ disconcerting.

"Y-you know my name?"

"The stars speak of you."

"O-oh. Oh, do they? That's…that's…the stars? Really?" My voice squeaked, and I forced a smile to hide it. "An-and what do…the stars…say…about me?"

Firenze. That was his name. Firenze cocked his head to one side, studying me slowly up and down. "You are frightened."

"The stars say I'm…? Oh, no, sorry, that's coming from you…yeah, I'm frightened. You frighten me. Don't think too much of it, though," I waved my hands dismissively and widened my smile. "Everything frightens me. I once screamed at my own shadow."

"I am sorry."

"It's all right. Hardly your fault. It's all in the upbringing." I swung my arm sharply in front of me, further pouring it on entirely too thick. If he was unaware of how extremely uncomfortable I was, he certainly was by now. Way to play it cool, Mel.

"You know why I apologize," Firenze answered evenly, straightening his head. "You _understand_. Your eyes are open wider than those of the scurrying child."

I gulped. "You…how do you know?"

"The stars speak of you."

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, you did say that. Do the stars say more than that I have wide eyes?"

Firenze smiled softly at my attitude, which I found even more disconcerting than the stare he began with. "Do you know what courage is, Melbecka Harper?"

"What do you mean?" I narrowed my eyes.

"Courage is to be afraid, yet to do still do what one must. You, Melbecka Harper, have courage."

"Well…thank you," I smiled genuinely. "That is very…thank you. Now, I really must be go…"

"The sun has set, and before it rises again, we will all fall in the darkness. The planets whisper of it, and it is written in the stars."

If there were words to respond to that, I did not know them. Instead, I took a few steps backwards and eventually turned around and walked away from Firenze until the slapping of my feet on the stones mixed with the clopping of his hooves fading into the opposite direction.

It was written in the stars, and the stars spoke of me. Now, if I only knew what he meant.

FGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFG

"Let's play our game," Angelina announced, dropping her stuff next to mine on the Ravenclaw table. For the second time in as many weeks, I screamed at the sudden intruder in my dome of solitude. It was that odd time of day on Friday, that time between lunch and dinner when no one is in the Great Hall because it is not meal time but everyone is secretly starving. I loved to set up camp at the Ravenclaw table and get work done that time of day because the Great Hall was almost always abandoned and therefore much more peaceful than the actual library. Still, it should not have been that surprising for someone else to appear. I was just so engrossed in the restricted Potions book I'd finally whined my way into getting Snape's permission to read, the perfect distraction from my earlier meeting with Firenze, that I hadn't realized she was there.

"Fine," I sighed, marking my page and closing the book. Our game would take entirely too much time; I would forget all about how to make Veriteserum by then, which was a damn shame. I was really trying to figure out what Snape was up to all those months ago. "I take it you want to start?"

"I do," Angie nodded, sitting on the bench so she faced me fully. "What if I knew that the twins had enough money, right now, to open up shop? They could just pop right out of here and walk into, say, Hogsmeade or the likes and buy a building straight up, no loans or nothing, and be good to go. Would you want to know?"

I wrinkled my nose. "No," I finally decided. "Given the current state of things, I would hold out and wait for George to tell me."

"What if I knew that they got the money by stealing things from small children? Would you want to know then? George would never tell you that."

"He wouldn't," I agreed, biting my lip at the hypothetical conspiracy presented to me. I was so engrossed in thought that Roger's appearance in the Great Hall as I debated had no effect. "I still say no. Let them live with the guilt until it eats them alive and they have to tell me because the innocent faces of those poor little babies haunt their nightmares."

Roger froze with his bag halfway to the tabletop. He gaped at us as if we were completely bonkers, but finally decided it was just safe enough to sit down veeeeery slowly. "What are you two doing?"

"Playing our game," I supplied. "I suppose it's my turn, isn't it?"

"What's the game? Can I play?"

"Not really," Angie shook her head. "It's sort of our thing. It's the 'If I Knew, Would You Want To Know' game." I could tell by the way his eyebrows rose as high as they would go that she had lost him, so I jumped on the explanation.

"We throw hypothetical situations at each other. If I knew that someone was planning to put salt in your drink, would you want to know? Things like that, only more serious. Sometimes, it's stuff we actually know, and sometimes we make it up. So, it's all purely hypothetical. And if you have to ask, 'Why, do you really know that?' then you should have said yes and we would explain it, but you said 'no' so you don't get an explanation until you've had time to think on your decision. It's only fair."

Angie nodded. "You can't go changing your mind willy-nilly."

Roger wrinkled his nose. "Sounds like a girl's game."

"Well, look who's playing," I gestured between Angie and myself. "Now, either get so absorbed in your Quidditch playbook that you stop paying attention or go away." Roger rolled his eyes at me.

"Look, I hate to interrupt such academic pursuits, but I really need to talk to you, Mel."

I frowned at how serious his tone had become. "Why?" I glanced at Angie, as if she had an answer. "What's wrong?"

"Well, nothing's wrong, per say. I just came from a meeting with Umbridge."

"Umbridge?" We now completely forgot about our interrupted game, and I leaned slightly towards him. "What did she want?"

"Well," Roger made a face. "See, I don't really know. She asked me a lot of questions. I think she did something to me, maybe, I don't know, maybe in the tea, hard to say," he rambled, shaking his head as he tried to figure something out. "I just couldn't stop saying things."

"What did she ask you about?" Angie prompted. That seemed to focus him, and he locked eyes with me seriously.

"You, Mel. She kept asking about you. What you've been up to lately, to be precise."

Angie and I shared a look, and I asked, "What did you tell her?"

"The truth. See," he shook his head again, "that's all I seemed to be able to tell her." He shook the thought off and focused again. "She asked if you were gone a lot, and I asked her how was I supposed to know? We're not attached at the hip. So, she asked why you weren't in bed most nights, and I said I had no idea if you were or weren't in bed seeing as our beds are nowhere near each other, but that if you weren't in bed you were probably asleep over a pile of homework or passed out in the Gryffindor common room because you fell asleep hanging out with that lot, or maybe you weren't sleeping because you got absorbed in making a potion." Angie gave me a pointed look, and I made a mental note to slap Roger. "When I asked her how she knew you weren't in bed, she just said she'd heard it somewhere. Well, she used some frilly term about cats and whatnot. Point is, she's talked to someone else, Mel."

"Yeah," I nodded. Of course she had. Why only talk to Roger? If she wanted to know about my activities without alerting me, there were plenty of people to ask. Roger was a risk for this very reason, and she must have known that. Why even question him? How desperate was she? "Did she ask you anything else?"

"If you were gone more often or something. I said yeah, but that's to be expected, isn't it? What with you and George getting all chummy," Angie snorted at that, "I figured you were popping off somewhere to get a little whew-whew," he elbowed the empty air next to him, and my cheeks flushed from both embarrassment and irritation at his childishness. "Besides, you've always been a bit of a loner. You like wandering off on your own, doing things by yourself. Especially since Cedric…well, since then, you need more time alone. It's been that way all year."

"Was she happy with your answers? Or did it seem like she wanted more?" Angie prompted.

Roger shrugged. "I don't know. She just kind of smiled and said 'I see' a lot. Look, you two, what is all this about? Mel, what did you do? Did you piss her off again? If you get kicked off the team, I swear…"

"No, no," I waved my hand quickly. "I didn't do anything, Roger. Keep your knickers on. The woman is clearly batty. I don't know what this is about."

Unless you consider that I spent my holidays in the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix and belong to a secret defense club led by Harry Potter meeting to learn all of the things that she refuses to teach us. Then, maybe she is on to something.

* * *

><p><strong>So, I have a bit of a quandary, and I'm hoping your opinions can help me. This story has grown to be much longer than I imagined it would, but I still have so much more I want to do with it. So, what do you think: Should I end this at the end of the Order of the Phoenix and start a new sequel story that covers books 67 (I can cover them in one story, believe you me), OR would you prefer I keep this one going straight through to the end? Your opinion will really help me out, so please share!**

_**Next chapter:**_** Playing with Patronuses**


	27. Terrible Tea and Squashed Frogs

_The first time I saw the Gryffindor common room, I was stunned. It was so homey compared to Ravenclaw, with the roaring fire and the comforting reds and golds and the huge couches. I admit that I looked around the room at least three times swearing I must have missed the floor-to-ceiling bookcases before realizing that they did not have any here. They had only a few small windows, too, and not much to look at out of them from what I could tell. Still, it was not such a bad home that my near-sister found herself in. By third year, though, the beauty of the room was barely comprehensible to me. I had seen it too many times to appreciate, I suppose. The only time I could truly realize its magnificence was at Christmastime._

_ "Oh, Angie, this is lovely," I breathed, gently running my fingers over a golden lion ornament on their tree. Angie beamed at me. _

_ "Isn't it, though? You'll have to show me Ravenclaw soon. I've heard it's gorge. Biggest tree in the castle. 'Course, you lot have the room for it. Now, sit," she ordered, plopping onto the couch and motioning next to her. "Before those twins show up." She grabbed a book off of the end table, flipping through it with absent curiosity. _

_ I followed her command, swallowing heavily. "All right, probably for the last time this year, we're playing our Game." Angie smiled broadly; she probably already had something to tempt me with. But, it was my turn first. "Would you want to know if I knew that one of our friends was going to die?"_

_ "What?" Angie looked up sharply from her book. "Yes, of course." I opened my mouth, but Angie slapped a hand over it. "Wait. No, I wouldn't. I couldn't act normally around her. Or him. I'd tell, and you'd hate me. I'd hate me. No. No, I wouldn't want to know."_

_ I blew a spit bubble onto her palm, and her hand quickly vanished from my face. "What if…you were madly, head-over-heels, bonkers in love with him? Or her? Would you want to know then?"_

_ "Oh, no," Angie shook her head, wiping her hand on my tie, "definitely not. How could I look at him, not her," she pointed menacingly, "everyday? I couldn't pretend that everything was all right. I'd try to change it, and how would I cope when I failed? But how could I cope if I did nothing? No, absolutely not. Never, ever tell me. I would _not_ want to know if you knew._"

_ "All right," I held my hands up. "Calm down. It's a game, remember? It's your turn, too."_

_ "Oooh, yeah!" she smiled, her little moment already completely forgotten about. "Would you want to know if I knew if one if the twins liked you?"_

FGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFG

I stared at Umbridge, arms folded across my chest, feeling torn between vomiting because of our close proximity or the kittens adorning every corner of the room. I finally decided that, should I decide to empty the contents of my stomach here in this most hideous office, it would be over the sickly sweet smile she gave me as she handed me a cup of tea.

"There, there, dear," Umbridge smiled too sweetly, holding the teacup out to me. "Drink up. It will make you feel better. You've had quite a distressing day, so I've heard. I have been saying since I first saw him that Professor Hagrid's lessons are far too dangerous!" It took quite a bit of willpower not to reach for my shoulder, where the ghost of the burn I had received in that morning's lesson itched at the mere mention of the incident. Madam Pomfrey had taken care of the physical markings, and George helped me laugh away any irrational psychological fears that may have developed. I did not need her to bring it back up.

I stared at her with wide, blank eyes and made absolutely no motion to take the tea. This woman had dragged me away from a potentially profitable game of wizard chess against Fred, and I was not about to drink her spiked tea on top of that. Instead of placing the teacup on the edge of her desk like anyone else would do, though, she took one of my hands and, despite my attempt to pull my arm away, wrapped my fingers around the handle.

"Drink."

"What d'you want?" I asked. No, I would not drink that tea. Absolutely not.

Umbridge cleared her throat. "I just wish to ask you a few…questions. Dear, I do think you should drink up." I let my eyebrows lower to show I was both confused and irritated by her obsession with tea. "Before it cools."

"I'm not going to answer your questions."

"Ah," Umbridge smiled again. "But, I think you will. As High Inquisitor, it is fully within my power to demand answers, and it could cause you quite a lot of unnecessary trouble if you were to be stubborn about this. See," Umbridge travelled slowly behind her desk as she spoke, "I took a look at your records, and I know that you do not like trouble, Melbecka…"

"Miss Harper," I interrupted. When Umbridge frowned at me, I added, "Teachers are to address students by their last name with the proper title beforehand. I should think that the High Inquisitor would be aware of that. Although, it doesn't particularly matter what you call me because we won't be talking much. I know my rights." I have no idea where that came from. Did I have rights? Who knew anymore? With all this High Inquisitor bullshit going on, who know what this woman could and could not do? "I won't say anything without Professor Flitwick here."

"Professor…" she balked, but quickly regained her composure. "I see. It is, of course, perfectly natural to be apprehensive about talking to me given our…history of interactions. However, _Miss Harper_, I can assure you that-"

"Get Professor Flitwick, or I'm going to bed."

Professor Umbridge stared at my very carefully for a very long time, long enough that I began to feel extremely uncomfortable in my chair. Had I not known better, I would have strongly considered the notion that I had eaten something sour at lunch, but that was clearly not the case at Hogwarts. No, it was just her intense gaze that made my stomach rumble like an early morning thunderstorm. How many different ways could this woman make me nauseous?

"Very well," she said finally, snapping back to her cheeriness so quickly that my stomach actually dropped at the sudden change. "Let me see what I can do."

Professor Filius Flitwick had many credits to his name. Not only was he the charms master at Hogwarts, but he also conducted the school choir, was a former dueling champion, was fondly referred to as a model student by those who remember his schooling days, had some rather intriguing goblin ancestry, and was the best head of house in Hogwarts, if you believe my completely biased opinion.

Most students had a very lax relationship with their head of house, and Ravenclaws were no different. Of course Flitwick preferred his Ravenclaw students and was more likely to give us house points for getting those obvious questions right in class than he would to, say, a Gryffindor; but, like all house heads, he knew little more than the name and charms grade of most of his charges.

I was one of the exceptions. I imagine this would be the case in any house I ended up in, but I did particularly like Professor Flitwick. His laid-back, casual approach to schooling was more the style I preferred. I liked that he let us spend entire class period playing games and goofing off when a break was coming up. He encouraged individual learning, and if you were just completely hopeless and botched the charm, he always remained optimistic that you would come 'round in the end. All in all, I found him, shall we say, a very charming little man.

That's why I made it a point to stop in his office as soon as I could every year. With other teachers, it was unthinkable to just waltz in unannounced, but that was exactly what I did to my dear head of house. He never failed to greet me with a big smile, a warm cup of tea, and a bit of advice to carry with me for the year. I will always maintain that anything one needs to learn about being a decent person can be learned from dear Professor Flitwick.

Umbridge probably also knew what a wonderful soul he was, and there was little doubt in my mind that she return empty handed. I would have been more cornered had she actually returned with my head of house. That had never been part of the plan.

The plan was, actually, to get rid of the tea. If Roger was right, and I actually did trust the boy despite his male-caused tendency to be bonkers, she had spiked it with something. Given everything I witnessed so far that year, my money was on veritaserum. It made sense. Why else would the Ministry give Professor Snape sanction to brew some? He had to have made it for her, and she was in turn using it to interrogate students.

My problem came in here: I knew that Professor Snape had not brewed a true veritaserum. Somewhere along the line, he had given her a bottle that would not actually work. Obviously, though, he was brewing the right stuff sometimes, or else Roger would not have been affected. Snape had to give her the right stuff sometimes; if she never got the answers she wanted, that would be awfully suspicious. Then, why brew the fake potion at all? Had he given her that yet? Was he saving it? What would he save it for? Only someone who knew they were supposed to be under the effects of veritaserum could make her think they had actually taken the stuff, so it must be someone who either knew what was going on or could figure it out. It had to be someone important, too. Someone worth risking himself to protect.

Harry Potter, maybe?

I shook my head at that. Harry may be the one destined to save our world, but he would never be able to act like he had ingested a truth serum and properly fool someone. I sometimes doubted that Harry could properly button his shirt.

The click of heels approaching the office made me stop speculating. I could decide all of this with Angie, Fred, and George later. Right now, I had to get rid of the tea. There was a plant, but if I really had a truth serum, I wondered what it would do to the poor thing. I did not want to kill it. So, in a moment of panic, I dumped the tea on the floor.

"Shit," I muttered, drawing my wand. I quickly enchanted one of her desk drawers open, a bottom one that I hoped she didn't use much, waved my wand over the puddle, and sent it into the drawer. Let her deal with that mess in a few days.

"I'm so sorry, Miss Harper," Umbridge simpered as soon as she reentered the room. "Professor Flitwick is…otherwise engaged at the moment. I assure you that he would be here if he could."

"It's all right. I really just wanted you to leave the room for a few minutes because whatever perfume you're wearing is smellier than a troll fart, which I most certainly have smelled because I have been in that bathroom, the one with Hermione Granger and the mountain troll? Still reeks." I made it a point to frown in pure and utter confusion after my moment of intense honesty. If she wanted me to speak the truth, I would give her the truth. Maybe she would think twice about wanting to know what was really on my mind in the future! "I, ehm, I don't why I said that…"

"It's…perfectly fine, dearie," Umbridge smiled thinly. "I appreciate your…_honesty_."

Evil. Pure, unabashed evil.

"Now, this should not take too long. I'm sure you have some studying to do," she smiled as if we had shared a joke. Clever. Quip about studying to a Ravenclaw. Oh, how she would pay for that. "It has come to my attention, Miss Harper, that you have, how shall we say it, taken to going off on your own, and no one seems able to account for what you do during this time. I trust that you know all clubs and organizations have been banned without my express permission?" She made it a point to sit down on the very last word, which I admit did make her seem just a bit more intimidating than usual. It hardly mattered how scary she tried to seem, though. I knew who really had the power.

"Yes, I am aware of the dumbest rule ever implemented on the future generation of witches and wizards in a desperate attempt for the Ministry to fumble for power." I made sure to keep my voice even and face perfectly calm while I spoke, but then furrowed my brow and mouthed part of the sentence over again to myself in disbelief. She would buy my performance, I swore it.

"_Hem-hem_," Umbridge cleared her throat carefully. "Well. Then. I trust you are not engaging in any illegal activities, Miss Harper."

"I sneak of bed sometimes…_shit_."

Umbridge smiled carefully, as if she were the caring mentor instead of someone I wanted to slap. It made me want to slap even more desperately. "And why do you sneak out of bed, Miss Harper?"

"I don't see how that's any of your business." Which, coincidentally, was the truth.

"You are breaking the rules, Miss Harper, and I would like to know why." She leaned across her desk sharply, an edge creeping into her voice that made my mouth go dry. Lest I forget, this woman was someone to be careful around. She was influential with the Ministry and had this whole school practically under her control. There were very few people that could protect me, and none of them were in this room. I had to play my cards much more carefully than I had originally thought.

She wanted the truth? Fine. I would give her some truth. Let's see just how much of it she could take.

"Sometimes…I go out to the grounds. The grass outside is still brown and shriveled where they came back. I don't think any amount of magic will ever make it grow again." Umbridge frowned at me, leaning back in her seat. "Where Harry and Cedric came back, after the third task. I was in the stands, of course I was in the stands, everybody was in the stands. I was right next to Cho, and I'd promised Cedric I wouldn't wear my Potter Stinks badge even though I so desperately wanted that boy to lose. He shouldn't have been in the tournament; I mean, I understand now how it was rigged and none of it was his fault, but at the time, I was still bitter about that. Cedric was our champion, not Harry Potter. I was so excited when it looked like he had won, but then…Have you ever seen a dead body, Professor Umbridge?"

"Miss Harper, I don't see…"

"I hadn't. Well, not unless you count the bird we found in Angie's backyard when we were 12. I'd never seen a person dead, though. That's not something you forget very easily. There was dirt, well, all over really, but particularly right…" I reached my finger up and traced a line just across my face, "there. And there was blood right here," I traced another line. "Just a smudge of it, like there was no cut, just the blood. Like it was someone else's." I shrugged helplessly. "I suppose it was from when he fell. Harry said it all happened rather quickly, but you still bleed after you die. Just for a little while. That's what my mother says. Your blood still needs to go _somewhere_. It doesn't just vanish. His shirt was torn right across the bottom, maybe from the maze, maybe from something else; it's hard to say really. You know the most surreal part? As he lay there, I swear he twitched, too. Just a bit. Just his finger," I demonstrated with my own. "I've been told that people do that. There's still energy inside, that spark that keeps us going, but there's nothing there to channel it, to make you live. Same reason chickens run around after you cut their heads off. But it was his eyes, Professor, that I can't get out of my head at night. You might still bleed, and you might still twitch, but the way you can tell someone is dead is by their eyes. They're completely empty, no spark of life or twinkle of…"

"_Miss Harper_," Umbridge finally interrupted, head turned away so I couldn't see more than her squashy nose sticking out from her outdated hairdo. "That is _quite enough_. I think I understand."

"I don't think you do," I shook my head. "No one does. Cho understands, maybe a few others. Cedric didn't have many friends. He had admirers. He had hordes of people worshipping the ground he walked on. Very few people actually knew him. You don't know what it's like to be one of the few people to know the heart of someone whose name is known by everyone. You don't know what it's like to see them dead. Now everyone's telling me that it was a tragic accident? He was murdered, Professor, and that's the truth. I am bloody good at potions, and I know what you put in that tea, so if you want the truth, you can bloody well listen to it. Cedric Diggory was murdered, and if you wonder what I am up to and why other people cannot account for my actions at certain times of the day, look no further than that."

For the only time that year, I witnessed Dolores Umbridge completely speechless. I stood up abruptly, slinging my school bag smoothly over my shoulder. I was not finished with her just yet.

"So, at night, sometimes I go out there to collect my thoughts. Sometimes, I go to my boyfriend so I can just hold something solid and know that, for everything I've lost and have yet to lose, at least I have him, right here, right now. Sometimes, I bury myself in a textbook in the back of the library where no one can find me so I can read until the wee hours of the morning without disruption. Sometimes, I tuck away in the dungeon, throwing anything I can find into a cauldron to see what comes out. Anything to know that I am still here, still alive, still able to carry on." And, sometimes, I go to a secret club so that, one day, I can hand Voldemort his ass on a platter, courtesy of some handy spells a witch as useless as you will never be able to use. How I wished I could actually say it.

All right, so it was a bit of a lie; that _was_ sort of the point of not drinking the veritaserum. Cedric was my inspiration, but that she and I both knew what I was really up to all those nights. She just needed proof against Harry Potter. Well, sucks to you, Dolores Umbridge. I can play your stupid games, maybe better than you can.

I took two carefully measured backwards steps to the door, and when I reached back and grabbed the handle, I added my last bit of honesty for Dolores Umbridge.

"By the way, your tea tasted terrible, and you look like a squashed frog."

* * *

><p><strong>Obviously, this was <strong>_**not**_** Playing With Patronuses like I said it would be. That's part of why this chapter took soooo long for me to post (which I am so so so sorry for!). I realized things wouldn't work timeline-wise the way I had it, so I had to do a rewrite of some bits and swap some things around. **

**Also, my question from last chapter still stands. Thanks so much katchile94 for answering-your feedback really helps! For those that missed it: this story is going way longer than I originally thought it would, and there's still a lot more I want to do with it. Personal preference, would you rather I break it up into two stories (finish OOtP and cover HBP and DH in a sequel) or leave it as one long story? **

_**Next chapter (for real this time, honestly!)**_**: Playing with Patronuses**


	28. Playing with Patronuses

It did not occur to me until much later than it should have that I needed to warn people about the questioning. Angie, Fred, and George were first on my list, of course, and they all promised to be as careful as they could around Umbridge. I made George promise extra hard that he would behave; the scars on the back of his hand were getting to be more than I could bear to look at.

Next on my list, then, was Cho. For as batty as I thought she was, I did not really think Umbridge was stupid enough to go after someone as close to Harry as, say, Hermione or Ron. It did not even seem that likely she would question the twins in case it got back to Ron who passed it along to Harry. She was still acting with stealth, trying to pass under Harry's radar. She wanted to surprise him one day with her wrath. The odds were good, though, that she did not yet know that Harry wanted nothing more than to shack up with Cho. Their Madam Puddifoot's date was hardly well-known, although Roger and some Hufflepuff 6th year he had taken to bringing along everywhere seemed to find it a constant source of amusement. Yuck. Umbridge just may be dumb enough to question my friend, who just may be clever enough to figure out what was going on. So, just before our DA meeting, I figured I had enough time to find her before she got whisked away by the Boy Who Lived. Blech.

So, I enlisted Roger to help me search. The boy, thank Rowena, did not need specifics as to why we needed to warn Cho about Umbridge's spiked tea interrogations. When I told him we had to warn her, he dutifully set off from the common room, no questions asked, towards the place any Ravenclaw is likely to be: the library. I checked the Room of Requirement with no luck and began heading towards the Great Hall with a path that snaked through corridors holding teacher's offices, just in the off chance she was arguing over her marks or getting some extra help. Ravenclaws do that sort of thing, after all.

"Cho?" I frowned, noticing my old friend sitting against the wall by the door to Umbridge's office. "Do you have a meeting with her?" My heart clenched in fear.

Cho looked up sharply as I interrupted her thoughts. "Hmmm? No." She shook her head casually, then remembered that she hated me. "Why?"

"Has Umbridge said anything about wanting to meet with you?"

"No. Mel, what's going on? You look all pale. Sit down." She gestured to the floor next to her, but I stayed standing.

"What are you doing here, then?"

"Marietta wanted to talk to her, something about her marks on that last essay. It's nothing important. Is everything all right?"

I shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. Umbridge has been asking a lot of questions lately. She pulled Roger in to ask if he knew why I was always wandering off, and when he didn't say much, she pulled me in."

"You didn't say anything, did you?" Cho gasped, eyes wide. She scrambled to her feet and took my hands in hers as we did when things got intense. Of course, "intense" used to mean Cedric had asked her to the Yule Ball or one of us had received bad marks. How times had changed.

"No, but that was just a stroke of luck. She's putting something in the tea, and I think it's a truth serum. I wanted to warn you in case she wants to talk to you next. You should tell Marietta, too, just in case. I think she's on to us."

Cho nodded rapidly. "Yeah, I'll warn her. I should tell Harry, too."

"Sounds good. Maybe we should make some kind of announcement after the meeting tonight." Cho nodded again. "Cor, what have we gotten wrapped up in, Cho?"

She laughed nervously. "I haven't the foggiest idea, Mel. Isn't it exciting?"

I laughed, too. No, no it was not exciting in the least. It was terrifying! I dropped her hands and bit back the correction; now was hardly the time. "Look, Cho, I'm sorry for what happened during the last match. It was dumb of me, and I shouldn't have said it. It was completely and utterly callous of me to tell you to forget about Cedric."

"Oh, Mel," she sighed, tugging absently at her tie, "I've been stupid, too. Rowena, you were concussed! I shouldn't have held it against you this long. It's just that sometimes it feels like you miss Cedric more than I do, but other times it feels like you don't miss him at all. You're supposed to be the one going through this with me, but I always end up feeling alone."

"Cho," I cooed, tucking her hair behind her ear, "you know I miss him. I always miss him. I just show it differently than you. Your relationship with him was so easy to understand. You loved him. It's a little harder to define how it is between best friends, don't you think? I loved him, too, but not like you. It was so different but so similar, and it makes this all one big, sloppy mess. I miss him, and I know you miss him, too." Cho's eyes began to shine, and I inwardly cursed. That was the one thing I had not missed in the time we had been "fighting"; Cho's constant crying. If I could just make her laugh… "Even if you're trying to get Harry Potter into your pants."

"Oh hush, you!" she giggled, smacking my arm playfully. "Like you can talk! Half the school figures you and George have already shacked up." Lovely. "Let's just back up for a minute. How many best friends do you have exactly?" Cho wrinkled her nose.

"What? I can't have two?"

"You have the twins. That's already two," she raised her eyebrows in a playful challenge.

"No. Boyfriends don't count as best friends. Fred counts as one. I still have a slot open."

"Angie."

"Is like a sister to me. Siblings also don't count."

"Roger."

"Is a bit of a dunderhead, isn't he?"

"Me."

"This is the first time you've spoken to me this term, Cho. If you wanted to be my best friend, you should have sent me a Christmas present."

"Oh-ho, that's what this is about?" Cho laughed. "Game on, Melbecka. I shall worm my way back in. Fred better watch out. C'mon. Let's go to…the library." Cho Change always could cover so well. No one would _ever_ guess we were not actually going to the library after that performance. "Marietta can walk by herself for once."

I grinned as Cho threw an arm around my shoulder and made a mental note to tell the first Ravenclaw we passed in the hall to tell Roger to stop his search. Oh, it felt good to have my friend back. So very, very good.

As we walked to the DA meeting, there was a moment where there were no problems in the world. Despite the fact that we were walking to a defense club to learn spells for when we had to fight You-Know-Who, Cho and I laughed as if the world was a perfectly safe place, which it was most certainly not. Not with the Azkaban break out. It was all anyone talked about in the hushed whispers of the Ravenclaw common room. Those people were out there again, doing who-knew-what, and as they gained their freedom, I completely lost the ability to sleep.

Neville seemed particularly shaken by the whole thing. I could hardly blame him, of course, for whatever his reason was to be so worried about the whole thing. We all had our reasons to be scared. I was shaking in my skin over the thought of Death Eaters from Azkaban roaming loose. Voldemort was building an army, and the Ministry was purposely keeping us powerless to stop them. It made all of us attack Dumbledore's Army with even more attention that we had previously. This was no longer a joke or a theory or a way to stick it to Umbridge. It was real. DA was no longer just something to enjoy, a brief respite from rest of the world. It was preparing us for the worst.

It was not, however, particularly good for confidence-building. Harry wanted us to produce a Patronus? After Angie and I got over our fits of laughter and realized he was serious actually expected us to try that…

"C'mon," George nudged my elbow with his, "this is brilliant!"

"This is _not_ brilliant," Angie scowled. "_Expecto Patronum!_" Nothing. "Bullocks. I'm going to be killed one day, you know that?" No, she wouldn't.

"Don't be too harsh on yourself, Angelina," Fred grinned. "Mel hasn't tried yet."

It was my turn to scowl at a Weasley twin as, through gritted teeth, I hissed, "No, Mel hasn't tried yet." I took a deep breath and pointed my wand like Harry had showed us. "_Expecto Patronum_."

A few feeble tendrils of silvery light rolled out from my wand. We-ell, bring on the Dementors. I could make the hordes flee in fear with wisps of smoke. "This," I glowered at my wand, "is bloomin' pathetic."

"No," Harry corrected from over my shoulder, and I restrained myself from hurting him for scaring me. He had a tendency of sneaking up on people during these meetings, and I was really beginning to hate him for it. "That's actually really good. You just need to think of something a little happier. You'll get it. That's…that's a really good start. Cho!"

I rolled my eyes as he moved across the room to flirt awkwardly with my friend. Typical male, distracted by a pretty face. Fred laughed as a silvery monkey hopped at his feet. Figured that he would be the first of my lot to make one. Probably thought of snogging Angie. She glared at him, too, as a burst of light shot out of her wand. It would probably hold off one dementor if need be, but it wasn't the full-bodied shape we all hoped for. George squeezed his eyes shut tightly, and when he opened them and tried the spell again, a monkey perfectly identical to Fred's appeared at his feet.

"Should've known yours would be the same," Angie shook her head.

"You think so?" Fred raised his eyebrows. "I think mine looks way more distinguished."

"Mine has very soulful eyes. Don't you think?" George asked me, putting his head next to his patronus's and batting his widened eyes.

"A perfect likeness," I hissed before trying the spell again, this time producing nothing.

"Alright," George reached out and grabbed my wand hand before I hexed someone out of frustration, "happy memories. Let's think of something happy."

"I don't have happy memories," I grunted as Fred tried roughly the same approach with Angelina with roughly the same level of success.

"Sure you do," George insisted cheerily. "How about when you made the Quidditch team, eh? Bet you loved that."

"I only tried out because you and Fred and Angie and Roger, who was my only Ravenclaw friend in my year if you remember, were all trying out. I decided that I was more scared of being alone than of falling to my death."

"Aaaaaalright, not your happiest memory, then. What about…when you got into Hogwarts? Everyone loves when they get their letter!"

"My mum burst into tears because she thought me being a witch meant that a Slytherin whose parents used to be Death Eaters would figure out that You-Know-Who's lot killed my dad and would kill me so I didn't try to avenge his murder when You-Know-Who inevitably rose to power again."

"Blimey, you come from cheerful stock," George exhaled heavily, saying it more to himself than me. "What about when you met me? That would make anyone joyful."

"You knocked over my trunk!"

"Yeah, but I picked it up!"

A ram with what I was certain was blood-lust in its eyes shot forth from Angelina's wand. Well, shit.

"Okay, okay, I've got it. You might not have liked quidditch to start with, right? But that first game, you versus us, Ravenclaw handed us our arses on a platter, remember? You smiled for days afterwards."

I did. But not because we won. I'd smiled because I'd blocked a throw by Angelina by letting go of my broom and lunging so far that I ended up dangling upside down and feeling fairly certain that my legs would give way and I would plummet to the ground head-first. It was the first time I had danced with death, and I had won. I'd smiled again when my mother's frantic response came several days later about how she couldn't believe I'd even tried for the team and didn't I know that so-and-so died by running his broom into the stands? Killed 16 spectators! I loved defying my mother's fear. I loved conquering my own even more.

"Yeah, okay," I nodded. "Let's try it."

The sounds of the roaring crowd filled my head as I imagined that moment in time. I could practically feel the blood rushing to my head as if I was, at that very moment in the DA meeting, hanging the wrong way off my broom. A great surging of pride swelled in me as I thought about my mother's frantically scribbled letter and Fred's dramatic reading of it in a high pitched, wavering voice that sounded eerily like my mother. Yes, I had been happy then. Truly happy. Maybe I could make this patronus thing work after all.

So, with a deep breath, I raised my wand and tried the incantation again. "_Expecto patronum_."

A flash of silver light exploded from my wand. George clapped his hands on my shoulders and exclaimed, "Brilliant!"

But it wasn't. I wanted a shape, blast it, and I would get one. With renewed determination, I pictured that catch again. The quaffle in my hands. The cheers of the crowd. My captain, a seventh year who had been particularly doubtful about letting me play, patting me on the back and telling everyone that skill like that was why he insisted I be on the team.

Righting myself to see George's brilliant smiling beaming at me from the stands.

"Bullocks," I muttered. That's what this had to come down to, didn't it? That had to be what set me over the edge. Him. His joy at my success, how he understood just how important that moment was, made that catch so wonderful for me. It had always been him, hadn't it? Even at twelve.

"What's wrong?" George asked. I shrugged my shoulders from under his hands.

"Nothing," I shook my head. Just that I'm hopelessly in love with you, and it will only end with one of our hearts being irreparably broken. Every day, I realize how completely and utterly intertwined our lives have been since the day you knocked over my trunk on Platform 9 3/4. You know. The usual.

I forced those thoughts from my head and returned to that memory. It did not matter that George Weasley was what made that moment so special. Of course George was what made it special. How could the happiest moment in my life not involve him somehow? It was foolish to assume otherwise. The point was that it _was_ special to me, and that would be enough to get my patronus. And I _would_ get a patronus. If Lee freaking Jordan could produce one, I bloody well could. So, I refocused my attention to that memory, that brilliant smile, and tried one more time.

"_Expecto Patronum!_"

George grabbed my forearms and gave me a quick, excited squeeze. "Brilliant! That's brilliant, Mel!"

I cautiously opened one eye, saw Angie clapping excitedly, and opened the other. Immediately, I squealed, whirled around, and threw my arms around George. He laughed and caught my waist in his arms as I squealed again into his shoulders. "I did it! I did it, I did it!"

"You did. Maybe you want to look at it," he laughed, and I let go of him to whip around and look at the silvery animal in front of me.

Fred and George's monkeys had faded as their attention had shifted from maintaining the spell to encouraging Angie and me, but Angie's ram gave my patronus a wary sideways look. Apparently, they really did take on our characteristics right down to her maternal suspicion of everything I did. My bear, though, sat on its haunches and sniffed the air without any concern about the ram.

"A bear and a ram. How appropriate," George grinned, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind. I crossed my right arm over my left to grab his elbows in a reverse hug, and when he rested his head on my shoulder, I leaned my temple against his. He laughed as I bounced on the balls of my feet, still overjoyed by my success, and loosened his grip when he realized he couldn't quite contain me.

"Yeah," Fred rolled his eyes. "Even in animal representations, they could tear us to shreds."

"You're just bitter that you didn't get something strong and fierce," Angie stuck her tongue out at him.

"Yeah, I really wanted an animal that finds great pleasure in butting its head against things."

"No, I'm sure you much prefer something that flings its own poo."

George snorted as Fred and Angie quipped back and forth. "Good job," he murmured into my ear.

"Thanks," I murmured back. "It doesn't make sense to me, though. Why a bear?"

I felt his eyebrows go up. "Why not? They're bloody terrifying, just like you. Makes sense to me."

I snorted. "I'm not terri_fying_. I'm terri_fied_. Of everything."

George chuckled as he released his hold on my waist and stretched his arms over his head. "No, you are terrifying. Trust me on that."

I was about to scold him for getting too mushy in public when the door to the Room of Requirement squeaked open. At first, I assumed Marietta had finally made her way in after a shockingly long meeting with Umbridge, but when glanced over the heads of the other members and their varying degrees of silvery success, I did not see the familiar bobbing head of my fellow Ravenclaw. In fact, I saw no sign of any additional person entering the room, and that disturbed me. George sensed my unease and wrapped an arm around my waist as he followed my gaze. Those people closest to the door fell silent at the intruder, which was not at all comforting. I shrank back into George and let him tighten his grip around me.

"What is it?" I asked since George, having a height advantage, could probably see over the heads of the people in front of us.

"You don't really want to know," he muttered, but it was too late. By that point, the friendly little house elf who always threw his arms around me happily when I snuck into the kitchens for an afternoon snack had wandered up to tug on Harry Potter's robes. He still wore the eight hats that were always on top of his head for whatever reason, but the tower shook as he stared at Harry.

The elf's eyes were big and round, as wide as saucers, and his whole body quivered as Harry greeted him. I knew that feeling all too well. The poor thing was terrified. A tremor of fear ran through me, and I threw a fist into my mouth so a whimper of panic didn't eek its way out. George wrapped his other arm around me and pulled my back flush against his torso so that I was completely surrounded by him, but that gave me little comfort. Something was terribly, horribly wrong. My patronus faded away into a few tendrils of silver mist, unable to stay with us any longer now that my attention was otherwise occupied.

"Harry Potter, sir…Harry Potter, sir…Dobby has come to warn you…but the house-elves have been warned not to tell…"

Harry tried to grab the elf as if he knew that the poor thing was going to charge at the wall, as house-elves are apt to do when they disobey a direct order. I let out a whimper of fear for the dear creature's safety that was audible even through my fist, which I knew I had bitten into by the salty, metallic taste of blood slowly trickling onto my tongue. Thankfully, though, with all those hats, Dobby just bounced off of the stone. Harry grabbed his arm to keep him from any more attempts at self-mutilation.

"What happened, Dobby?"

"Harry Potter…she…she…" Dobby paused and whacked himself on the nose, so Harry grabbed that arm as well.

"Who's 'she', Dobby?"

I turned in George's arms and buried my face in his chest. Wasn't it obvious? What 'she' could have him so frightened?

"Umbridge?" asked Harry. I felt George stiffen around me a moment later, so I assumed that the house-elf confirmed. "What about her? Dobby – she hasn't found out about this – about us – about the D.A.?" George tightened his hold on me again, and I felt my knees begin to tremble. Shit. Shit shit shit. "Is she coming?"

The house-elf let out a howl. "Yes, Harry Potter, yes!"

There was a moment of stillness where the only noise in the room was the thrashings of a distraught house-elf until Harry Potter broke it. "WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? RUN!"

That was all anyone seemed to need. The room erupted into chaos with everyone rushing for the door at once. George let go of my waist and grabbed my hand, moving to follow Lee into the mad rush of people. I would allow no such thing, though. No, I was completely rooted to the spot. It felt like everything was happening around me, outside of me, and even though I knew I wanted to be the first person out of that door and away from there, I just could not get my legs to work.

"Mel!" George exclaimed. "C'mon!" I turned my wide eyes on him, fist still firmly in my mouth, and shook my head. "Mel, _we have to go_." He looked around helplessly and found Fred with a tight grip on Angie's hand to keep them from being separated, so he grabbed his brother's shoulder. "She won't move."

"Of course she won't," Angie snapped, tugging Fred with her so she could stand in front of me. "She's petrified."

"So, she won't move?" Fred made a face.

"You wouldn't understand, you wanker," she shot at him. "Mel, I love you dearly, but this must be done." With her non-dominant hand, since Fred had hold of her good one, she reared back and landed a solid slap directly across my face. If anything could ever get me to move, it would be that.

"Owwww," I whined, yanking my fist out of my mouth to hold my cheek. "Wha'wassat for?"

"Let's _go_," she ordered, yanking Fred towards the door. George took my bleeding hand in his and pulled me to follow them, and my legs thankfully obliged this time. Harry was right behind us with Dobby, ordering the elf not to hurt himself. That precious Boy Who Lived, always worried about others. Fred and Angie had, in the few short seconds it took us to get out the door behind them, completely vanished, so George led me down the corridor towards who-knew-what.

We had just stepped on the moving staircase when it swung towards its next destination. Safe. No one going towards the Room of Requirement could reasonably get to us now. When the stairs reached their next point, I could take him to Ravenclaw for the night; it would be a might too risky to attempt to get back to Gryffindor. As we slumped onto the stairs, catching our breath, I could swear I heard laughter echoing from the hall we had just escaped from. George must have heard it, too, because he rubbed my forearm and glanced in that direction.

"Here," he muttered, pulling his wand. "Gimme your hand." I obliged, and he muttered a healing spell to get rid of bite marks. "You all right now?" I nodded. "Good. You really scared me there for a minute."

"Yeah, well," I shrugged, standing up as the stairs reached their new point, "I was a bit frightened myself."

"What do you supposed happened?"

"Isn't it obvious?" I frowned, taking his hand to lead him towards the entrance to Ravenclaw's common room. "Someone told."

And I had the sneaking suspicion that I knew who.

* * *

><p><strong>This one's longer because it took me so long to post with the holidays that I wanted to give a bit more! A late Merry Christmas to you! I hope to post the next chapter soon, but I wish you a Happy New Year now because it probably won't be up before then. My question from last chapter still stands, too! Thank you so much for the kind reviews and for still reading! The credit for all of this still goes to JK Rowling as I own nothing to do with the Harry Potter world, unless you count the DVD boxed set I just got for Christmas. <strong>

**Next Chapter: **_**Sneaks and Exit Strategies**_


	29. Sneaks and Exit Strategies

It was blissfully warm in George's arms when I woke up to the morning light shining directly in my eyes. I winced at the harsh morning rays of the winter sun and arched my back to stretch, realizing that I had just slept more soundly on the window seat of the Ravenclaw common room than I had all term in my bed. George squirmed at my movement and gently grabbed my wrist to pull me back down. I laughed at his clumsy motions, slowed by the drug of sleep.

"We should get up," I insisted. "Go to breakfast, see what's happening."

"We don't have to," he murmured in my ear. A blush spread across my cheeks as I considered how wonderful it would be to just stay in his arms for an hour or so longer.

But, of course, the universe could never permit that.

I felt Cho's presence next to us, making the air heavy with her whimpering. Damn. If we would not go to the DA, the world would bring the troubles of DA to us. Damn damn damn.

"H-h-have you s-seen M-Mari-e-e-etta?" Cho hiccupped, eyes bloodshot from crying for far too long. George and I shook our heads, George managing to keep his arms around me as he rubbed more sleep from his eyes. "It was an awful thing Hermione did. She's got pustules all over her face, spelling out S-SNEAK." George snorted, but I elbowed him sharply in the stomach. He quickly turned it into a cough, perhaps because I accidentally knocked the wind out of him, and Cho remained completely oblivious. "S-s-so mean. Who would that?"

"Cast the…spell, or…or rat us out?" George asked around gasps of air. Cho turned her wide, watery eyes on him, too upset even to give him one of the stinkeyed death glares she was so very good at.

"I th-th-thought she was asking about an-an _essay_. I didn't _know_," she moaned, sinking against the back of an armchair, knees shaking violently. "I didn't know."

"Well," George grunted, quickly grabbing my elbows as a protective measure, "you can't beat yourself up for it, Cho. None of us saw it coming. People just stab you in the back sometimes. Think of it as a learning experience. We'll get through it. Just a minor upset."

But it wasn't, was it? I knew that look on Cho's face: the weepy eyes, the pursed lips, the quavering jaw. Cho was not this upset over merely Marietta's betrayal.

My dear friend offered George a weak, transparent smile and pushed herself up off the armchair. She straightened her shoulders, tossed her hair back, and tried the smile again, blinking rapidly to clear some of the water from her eyes (unsuccessfully). "Thank you, George."

She started quickly across the common room towards the dormitory stairs, and I immediately crawled out of George's arms to follow her. I just caught her at the foot of the stairs, taking hold of her shoulder to stop her. Cho did not startle under my touch, did not even turn around to look at me right away. She expected me to follow. She knew I understood.

When she did slowly turn to face me, she had a real smile. Not a happy smile, but a real one. One that was sad and determined and heartbreaking. One that sad everything she couldn't.

"She betrayed us, Cho. She knew what the meant. You don't have to…"

"What if it was you, Mel? I couldn't leave you alone."

"No one is going to understand, Cho. You're going to lose everyone. You're going to lose _Harry_. Is she worth that?"

Cho reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "I don't know. Probably not. But she's not as bad as everyone is going to make her out to be. In the next few hours, she's going to become enemy #1 around here, and that's not right. She's not…well, You-Know-Who. She should have someone on her side. Someone needs to fight for her, show everyone that she isn't so bad, and she certainly doesn't deserve what Hermione did to her."

"Do you really think you'll be able to convince people of that?"

"Depends. What side are you on, Mel?"

Even though her wistful tone indicated that she knew my answer, her eyes widened in surprise when I did not hesitate to tell her. I should have felt bogged down by what it meant for our friendship and Cho's fragile tear ducts and the thin ice that our friendship walked on, but I wasn't. I could not find it within myself to bullshit her.

"Not yours."

Cho looked away, blinking fiercely to hold back a fresh round of tears. Her eyes landed on George, who was studying a pillowcase with furrowed brow and wrinkled nose, and she grinned. "Good. You never liked her, anyway. You shouldn't do it if it's not whole-hearted. Who knows? Maybe someone will surprise us. Maybe _Harry _will surprise us. I've got to at least fight for her."

"Cho," I shook my head, smiling gently at her unfounded optimism, "this isn't good-bye, you know. We're in the same house."

"I know," Cho nodded solemnly. "But it won't be the same, will it? This will always be there, the troll in the room that no one will talk about. I'll spend most of my time with her because she has no one else to spend her time with, and you won't want anything to do with her. We'll always be friends, Mel, but we may never really talk again."

"You could walk away."

Cho let out a breathy laugh, and another tear rolled its way down her cheek. She nodded over my shoulder at George, who had picked up a forgotten book, flipped to random page, turned the book sideways, turned his head sideways to match, and was now frowning at the book's contents. "Like George said, DA will get through it. It's just a minor set-back. Marietta…I don't know. She has no one right now. And a purple face."

I tipped Cho's chin up and used the sleeve of last night's robe to wipe the tears from her cheeks, feeling some trickle down my own. This was it. I had just gotten my friend back, and I was going to lose her.

"No, Cho, you're wrong. She has you."

FGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGF

Students did not bother to whisper about this story; it was obvious to anything with half a brain what we were all talking about. Dumbledore was gone, a fugitive, and it was all because of us. Theories ran rampant through the halls, each one more outrageous than the last. He transfigured the Minister into a toad. He Apparated through the wards. He stepped into a coat closet and was gone when they opened the door. He set the room ablaze and used the smoky chaos to fly out the window sans broom.

Gits.

Angie led me through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room where people were spread out with the various evening activities. Although they sat with books and chessboards and homework and letters and broom care kits, there was only one subject of conversation: The new educational decree. Umbridge was our new Headmaster.

Rowena, that woman had too much power. Earlier that school year, I had been confused why Fred and George had been so keen to beat up Malfoy physically when they had their wands handy. It made perfect sense to me now. There was something satisfying about making contact with the enemy. I really wanted to roll my sleeves up and land one sold punch to her jaw just to know that she felt how much I hated her. My hand itched at the thought, but I could not scratch it. The cuts on the back from that blasted quill were still too raw. As if she could sense my thoughts, Angie examined her own scars. The words had faded already, but the congealed blood left behind enough of a mark to show the world that we had just come from an Umbridge detention. Even Professor Snape, insisting that I had to scour cauldrons for an outburst in class (which may or may not have happened…all right, it did…), could not get me out of the punishment I faced for having my name on the list of Dumbledore's Army members.

Good. I wore my wounds as proudly as battle scars.

"Just the people we were looking for," Fred announced, coming up from behind us as we headed towards the stairs to the girls' dormitory. Angie gasped as he clapped his hands down on her shoulders, casting her eyes heavenwards as she sought relief from the fright. I smiled knowingly at her reaction. I had physical reactions to George's touch, too, and I was reminded of this by a flood of warmth that filled my chest when he wrapped his arms loosely around my waist.

He nuzzled his cheek against my hair and murmured, "Can we talk to you upstairs?" for just the four of us to hear.

Angie and I shared a look, and I imagine that the concern I saw on her face was written just as plainly on my own. We nodded simultaneously, so George took my hand to lead me into the boys' dormitory. It was abandoned, of course, since it was much too early for anyone to even consider going to bed yet. George sat on what I assumed was his bed and pulled me down next to him, and Fred sat on his bed and patted the mattress for Angie, who obediently sat.

We stared across at each other for a long time, Fred and George silently communicating as Angie and I watched the twins expectantly. Angie was finally the one to have enough, and she hit Fred's arm with a solid _thwack_.

"What's going on? You look like someone's died."

"No, no one's died," Fred rolled his eyes. "Blimey, why are you always the alarmist?"

"I'm not an alarmist! You snuck up on us and dragged us up to your empty dormitory so you could sit and stare at each other. What am I supposed to think, Fred?"

"Whatever you think, could you think it with your trap shut for once?" he rolled his eyes. She huffed and crossed her arms, but Angie actually did fall silent. To show her discontent, however, she fixed him with her death glare. "Lovely. Now. George and I have made a decision-"

"-about our futures-"

"-and we know how bitchy you two will get if we don't fill you in-"

"-so we wanted to tell you first that we have attained the funds necessary to open our own joke shop as soon as we leave this place-"

"-and we mean the _very second_ we leave."

I whirled on Angie and landed a solid backhand to her upper arm, wincing as the slices in my hand screamed in pain from the impact. Note to self: No more hitting. "You knew! That's what you were getting at! Arse!"

"You told me not to tell you!" she insisted. "You said you wanted to hear from them!"

"Wait," Fred interrupted, sharing a frown with his brother, "you _knew_? How the hell did you know?"

"I heard rumors," Angie shrugged noncommittally.

"From where?" George pushed.

"From…a…you," she caved. "I overheard Harry giving you the money last year. It was hardly discreet."

"It was _very_ discreet!" Fred insisted, his voice going up almost an entire octave as he began to stress out. How I loved to see him squirm.

"Look, that's not the point," George interrupted. "Point is, we're doing it. We're opening the shop."

"So," I wrinkled my nose, "you pulled us up here to tell us that you want to own a joke shop after Hogwarts. This," I circled my face with my hands, "is my shocked expression. Note carefully how I disguise the shock."

"Yeah, see, it's that after Hogwarts bit," Fred winced, watching Angie's death glare carefully in case he needed to defend himself. "That may come sooner than you think."

Angie's eyes widened instantly. "Godric! You're not." She watched the boys' faces shift from wariness to pure confusion. "You _are_. You're leaving!"

"You're not!" I burst in panic, looking to George for affirmation. He gave me none, though. "You are! How the hell are you doing that, you dunderheads? You can't just load your trunks and waltz out!"

"No," George said evenly, well aware of how volatile this situation could become if played wrong. "We have thought about that actually, Mel. There are certain things not in our possession at the moment that we would rather like back."

"What the fu-"

"Ah-ah," Fred interrupted before Angie could swear, "the less you know, the better. She'll think you were part of it otherwise. We don't want you getting in trouble over us."

"I'm sure we're able to handle it," I rolled my eyes. George fixed me with a stern look, and I shrank back. All right, so I probably would stab our new headmaster in the eye if I had to use that quill again. I was not particularly fond of pain, and the back of my hand was especially sensitive for whatever reason. Sue me for having anger issues.

Fred took Angie's injured hand in his; when she tried to pull away out of confusion and a bit of pride, he held fast until she gave in. "Look, these marks," he ran his thumb gently over the top so as not to hurt her, "will heal. They'll fade away so it will be like nothing ever happened. The only way it scars is if you get more. When I see you next," he fixed her with a stern gaze, "I don't want to see any sign of this. Yeah?"

Angie gulped and nodded feebly, not breaking the spell with Fred even though her eyes were welling up and threatening to spill over.

So, I answered for both of us. "Yeah. We'll stay out of trouble if you do."

The boys shared a wicked grin, and Angie managed to pry her hand free. "You know that will never happen," Fred beamed at me.

George ruffled my hair, and I squirmed away, smacked his arm, and did the same to him. Fred laughed at our mini-war. "We'll behave, I promise," I laughed. George reached for my head again. "I swear!" He let his arm fall back, lunged for me, stopped it short suddenly, and pulled back. I pointed at him menacingly. "Don't touch my hair again."

"I won't," he promised. "Do one more thing for us."

"Ron and Ginny are gits. We love them as dearly as if they were our own family-"

"Yeah, such a shame they aren't," Angie rolled her eyes, now fully recovered, apparently.

"-but we fully admit that they are the dunderheads that you imagine us to be," he continued, ignoring her interruption. "Try to keep them out of trouble, as well. They have this annoying habit of following Harry around-"

"-and Harry has this annoying habit of doing dangerous things," George finished. "We'd appreciate it if Won and GinGin didn't die before seeing our shop."

"Well," Angie rolled her eyes, "since you put it so lovingly, I suppose we'll do what we can."

"That's all we ask," George nodded.

"Now that that's out of the way," Fred clapped happily, "who wants me to hand them their ass in wizard chess?"

Game on.

* * *

><p><strong>Happy 2012, everyone! It's back-to-school time soon (too soon…eep!), but I don't think my posting will slow down. I mean, it's already pretty slow, right? I feel bad about that, I really do. I have never been this busy before. I can't apologize enough! I really can't! I apologize for the shortness of this chapter, too. I'll make up for it later.<strong>

**Any more opinions about splitting the story vs. one good ol' long extravaganza are welcome! Thanks so much to those who have answered.**

**Next chapter: **_**Fireworks and Farewells**_


	30. Fireworks and Farewells

There was nothing like brewing a potion to calm my nerves. Since I was having so much trouble sleeping, and it seemed that the new turn of events at Hogwarts would only make matters worse, I decided that brewing a dreamless sleep potion would be a good use of resources. It was also, however, extremely boring. How had I ever found this difficult? Now that I brewed antidotes for pure fun, the simplicity of a dreamless sleep potion was really rather dull. Sure, there was the slight danger that I could send myself into a sleep I would never wake from should I put in the wrong ingredient, crush when I should slice, stir three times instead of four, but I had a plan for that. In a fit of genius, I stole a cricket from the grounds. Even though I knew for a fact that I had not screwed up the potion, it never hurt to check. It also could be fun to see a cricket fall asleep.

A set of hands on my upper arms made me scream and accidentally toss an entire jar of flobberworm mucus into my brew. When I say 'entire jar', I mean that the jar went in as well. There went my potion.

"Dammit, George!" I cursed, elbowing him sharply in the stomach without even having to look. If I knew where his hands were and how tall he was, I knew where his stomach was. He grunted from impact and stumbled away from me.

"Why do you always do that?" he whined.

"Why do you always sneak up on me?" I countered, turning from my ruined potion to face him. "You know I hate it!"

He stuck his bottom lip out pathetically. "Cuz it's fun."

I grinned as he massaged his stomach. "How fun is it for your abdomen."

"Million laughs."

"Serves you right. What brings you to…" I screwed my face up and made my hands into claws, "_my lair?_"

George laughed at my scratchy hag voice and slid onto the bench next to me. "It occurred to me this morning that I could be leaving soon, and we might not get the chance to say good-bye." I sobered instantly and found sudden fascination in my potion, which was now the greenish-brownish-grey color of sludge. "Mellie, come on." I refused to give him the pleasure of seeing my beautiful visage. "_Mellie_." He nudged my shoulder, but I did not react. "Me-el, don't be like this." He brushed my hair behind my ear so he could see my face in profile, but I turned away from him stubbornly. "Mel, if you won't talk to me, we won't say good-bye at all."

I was fine with that. If we said good-bye, it would mean he was leaving for real. Forever. George was not leaving forever. He was leaving for a few months. I would see him again. So, why did we have to say goodbye? It was like he wanted to make me cry, and I was wearing entirely too much make-up to do that.

"Okay, fine, don't say anything. I'll talk," George shrugged, leaning back and crossing his arms. "I can be just as stubborn as you, missy." Fat chance. "Yeah, I know," he mumbled, running a hand through his hair, "fat chance." He let out a sigh through his lips so they rattled like a propeller on one of Angie's toy motor boats, the kind we used to try and sink in the park with the Muggle children growing up. "Look," he leaned towards me again and took my hand too quickly and tightly for me to flinch away or pull it free, "I don't know when we're leaving. We've got something planned for soon, but that won't be it. We want to cause the woman some grief first, you know? Get her for all the times she's gotten us." He ran us thumb over the thin scab on the back of my hand, which was almost healed. "All of us."

"We-ell, check you out. Being all noble," I rolled my eyes.

"Well, _some_one feels bitchy today," George smirked. I rolled my eyes at how lightly he took my attitude. "I wanted to take a minute to say a real, proper good-bye now in case something goes wrong today. If things get too hot, Fred and I'll have no choice but to leave, and I don't ever want to leave without doing this first."

"Don't be dramatic," I scoffed, finally looking at him. "You pull pranks all the time."

"Not like this," he insisted, seizing the opportunity to turn my body in his direction. "I'm hoping we make it through Easter, but I can't say for sure. I can't say if we'll make it through the next hour, Mel."

"Well, that's all right," I told him, cupping his cheek in my hand. "It's not like you're going to die. You're opening a shop. I'll see you soon enough." I wrinkled my nose. "Too soon."

"Shut up," he laughed, ruffling my hair much to my dismay. "And I know it's not a long thing, but I don't know how much we'll be able to write, especially at first. Things'll be busy and Mum'll probably attempt a murder and…well, they're still monitoring your post, aren't they?"

I frowned. I had almost forgotten about the day so long ago when poor Wooster had been so disheveled. He had not appeared to be so disturbed as of late. "I don't know. I don't _think_ so. I…haven't gotten…any post lately. Just that howler from Mum about not writing. Do you think they've been taking my letters?"

"No," George shook his head and rolled his eyes at the panic that instantly seized me. "I think no one is writing you, dear. Maybe you aren't as popular as you think."

"Or _maybe_ my invitation to the Order of Merlin induction ceremony was taken!" I insisted, widening my eyes in fake panic and grabbing his shoulders in jesting terror.

George laughed and gently pried my arms from his shoulders. "There's always next year. Do me a favor, yeah?" I nodded, sobering at the serious tone that took over his face. "I know we told you to watch after Ron and Ginny and to be careful already, but I really mean it. Be careful. I don't know if she's sucking the minister's-"

"Watch it," I warned. Umbridge had ears everywhere with that new Inquisitorial Squad, and we were in the damn dungeons. Not exactly the comment to be making in the heart of enemy territory.

"Right," George muttered. "Point is, she's got the minister wrapped around her finger, and with all that power, something's going to break. Don't let it be you. I do not want to come back to this place to break your ass out."

"Heartwarming," I rolled my eyes. "I'll do what I can so as not to inconvenience you."

"That's not…no, see, that's not how…damn," he wrinkled his nose in confusion, and I laughed at him.

"Oh, Georgie, you can be such a dunderhead sometimes," I grinned. "I'll be careful, and I'll keep those no-good siblings of yours out of trouble if I can."

"Yeah, I don't really care that much about them. Ron's nearly died a good three or four times here already, and Ginny has always burned the torch of devotion for our dear Harry Potter which, coupled with the fact that she's part of my family and refuses to dye her hair to something not ginger, is pretty much a guarantee that she'll be nearly killed sometime in the near future. There's only so much you can do for them. I'm more worried about you."

"What trouble am I possibly going to get in to?" I rolled my eyes.

"See, that's what worries me," he confirmed, twirling one of my curls around his finger absently. "You act all frightened and worried, but one wrong move sets off your temper, and you turn into an idiot. All bets are off at that point. I would really appreciate it if you could go two months without being an idiot."

"I hate you."

"No, you don't," he grinned boyishly, leaning forward to capture my lips in one of those breathtaking kisses that made me forget where I was. He pulled back for air and rested his forehead on mine. "I love you."

That should have scared me considering things like the Easter Bunny scared me, but my heart swelled at the words. Something warm spread through my body, and I caught the back of his head to pull him back in for another kiss, this one deeper, needier than the first. George moaned into my mouth at the desperation, but gently pushed me away.

He took a minute to collect himself, holding up a finger that he pointed at me several times as he caught his breath. "Not that…not that I mind or anything…cuz I don't…believe me, I do not mind…but, em, what was that?"

I smiled at him and ruffled his hair, which made him wrinkle his nose. Payback is a bitch, George Weasley. "That, my love, was good-bye."

George stared at me blankly for a moment before his mouth slowly grew into a huge grin, bigger than any I had ever seen light up his face. He bounced out of his seat and planted a sweet, chaste kiss on my lips, allowed me to pull him back for another, stole a third, decided after a pause that he wanted a fourth, and allowed without protest my addition of a fifth so we did not end on an unlucky even number (it is a Harper thing, do not question). "Does Snape know you're in here?"

I nodded. "Yeah, he gave me permission to be here and to get into the advanced ingredient cabinet."

"Good. Now, stay here. The last thing I need is you somehow getting in trouble for this."

"For what?" I frowned, but George did not answer as he backed out of the dungeon. "George? George, get in trouble _for what_?"

Merlin. Couldn't those two just go peacefully? Did they have no respect for my nerves?

I was just scooping out my second attempt at flobberworm mucus on Dreamless Sleep Take Two, carefully measuring it out exactly what I needed to make this thing work. No comas for me.

_BOOM!_

Dammit.

I watched my measuring spoon sink into the liquid contents of my cauldron and allowed a pathetic whimper to escape. Snape was going to murder me for wasting so many ingredients. The entire dungeon shook with the aftershock of the explosion, knocking a jar off of my table and shattering it. Double damn.

I grabbed my wand, half-expecting a troll to burst through the door even though I knew my boys were somehow behind it. There was nothing in the dungeons, but I went up one floor and found the cause of the commotion. Angie met me at the top of the stairs, just coming down to get me for lunch, and she dragged me towards the green-and-gold sparkling dragons that were soaring up and down the corridors. Pink five-foot wheels whizzed through the air, and Angie and I had to duck to avoid being hit by a rocket. Just to be safe, we stayed hunkered down to avoid the madness we were exposed to at full height.

Roger laughed as he ran by, pointing at a sparkler that had written _fuckface_ in the air. "This is brilliant!" he beamed as he, Bradley, and Davies disappeared into the crowd.

Umbridge let out a shout at the end of the hall and a red _Stupefy_ spell shot out of her wand. When the spell hit one of the rockets, the prank exploded and shot a hole in one of the paintings.

"They're mad," Angie yelled to me over the chaos. "Absolutely mad!"

"And a little brilliant," I grinned. Angie's shock broadened into a grin and then into a giggle, and she nodded.

"Maybe a little brilliant," she agreed as Filch ran by us swatting at fireworks with a broom. The sight made us laugh even more. "Let's…let's go find them."

We found them thanks to Harry, who was just leaving them, and he cocked his head towards the tapestry they were hidden behind. They were laughing so hard that no noise came out of their mouths but tears fell from their eyes. Angie punched Fred's shoulder but could not hide her laughter, and he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her down onto his lap.

"You're still here," I frowned at George. "I thought you were leaving."

"I told you we weren't," he rolled his eyes at me. Yes, to be fair, he had told me that. I just hadn't listened. He should have known I wasn't paying attention to him! "Advertising opportunity. Everyone will want a Weasley product now, and what's a little detention compared to that?" George explained as Fred held fast to Angie's waist while she struggled to break free, their laughter sure to give away our location. "We'll go next time."

"Next time?" I winced. The boys shared a wicked grin as Angie broke free.

Great.

The boys were heroes that night, taking more orders than I ever imagined they would be able to fill. Even the teachers were amused by their antics. Professor Flitwick spent about five minutes laughing at the _wanker_ sparkler that went off in our classroom. Fred and George had unabashedly stood up and took a bow, earning themselves some Flitwick applause and ten points to Gryffindor. Show-offs.

It was, however, hardly the end of their plan. It was towards the end of the Easter holidays, a frightening time of year considering that my mother told me as a child that the Easter Bunny ate bad children, that Fred, George, Angie, and I were stuffing our faces with chocolate eggs from Mrs. Weasley out on the grounds on a lovely spring day. By lovely, I mean it was not raining, although I suspected that it was about to do so. I was watching a grey cloud drift by on the horizon and listening to the boys explain the layout of their future shot when Ginny came up to us. It was surprising to see her, since people rarely came looking for us and even more rarely found us, especially when we had climbed a tree.

"Get down," Ginny ordered. Fred chucked a bit of chocolate at her. "Fine, don't. I don't care. Harry needs a distraction. Think you could help?"

"Ishhhhhaghia ouh waah?" George tried. I glared at him until he chewed, swallowed, and tried again. "Distraction for what?"

"He needs to talk to his family," she explained, squinting into the sunlight. No need to explain further. There was only one person that qualified as Harry's family: Sirius.

Fred leaned forward on his branch to share a grin with his brother. Angie leaned forward, too, stealing a bit of Fred's chocolate as she and I shared a much less optimistic look.

"We'll talk to him about it," George confirmed. Ginny burst into a big grin and bounced on the balls of her feet.

"You're the best! Thanks! Oh, hey, Mel, Angie!" she waved at us. "You're the best, too! Byee-eee!" And with that, she turned on her heel and took off across the lawn to join her little friends.

Angie hit Fred and nearly knocked him off the branch; if not for a quick spell from George, he would probably have plummeted down and broken something. "What are you two thinking? Are you trying to get expelled?"

"Don't be stupid," Fred rolled his eyes, stealing some of her egg in retribution. She smacked his hand, but he held fast to his stolen chunk of egg and popped it in his mouth. "Umbridge won't expel us. We'll be long gone by then."

"Come on," George grunted. He stuck his egg in his mouth, grabbed the branch with both hands, slid down so he was hanging in the air, and dropped down to the ground. He grabbed his egg and, after swallowing just enough chocolate to talk, announced, "Let's go talk to Harry."

So, we let them go. We knew they would not want us there, just like they did not want us there the last time they planned a grand spectacle. The more we knew about what they did, the more trouble we would get in. We were just told be around Gregory the Smarmy's corridor around five o'clock the next day if we wanted to see the outcome.

"Should we go?" I asked as we began towards the hospital wing for absolutely no reason other than that it took us directly through that corridor. "We could always go back and…"

"We're going," Angie ordered, grabbing my arm and dragging me along the hall just as the small crowd and Fred and George burst into applause. "Godric, we're already late."

"Late for what?" Roger asked from his position in the back of the crowd, arm around that blonde girl I had yet to learn the name of. Angie and I, the portrait of discretion, shook our heads rapidly, eyes wide to surely show that we were absolutely innocent.

"Nothing. What did they just do?" Angie asked, pointing at Fred and George as they took off through the crowd at the appearance of Umbridge. George saw us and slowed to flash his boyish grin and a double thumbs-up. Fred did the same when he saw Angie, and then they took off again. Dunders.

"Look for yourself. Gotta give you credit; those friends of yours are bloody brilliant," Roger laughed. Count on him to find amusement in everything. Angie and I rolled onto our toes to get a better look, getting jostled at more and more people showed up. I grabbed Roger's shoulders to stay balanced, glancing around to see that nearly the entire school and showed up at the commotion. Some of the students were covered in a substance that was sort of like Stinksap, and Angie and I gasped at the same time as we realized why.

The corridor was a swamp. They had turned the corridor into a giant swamp.

Holy crows.

I hardly had time to speculate on their utter genius and stupidity when Fred and George were hauled back through the crowd.

Caught.

Something in my chest clenched, and Angie grabbed my arm as that Zabini boy hauled them up in front of Umbridge.

Cornered.

"So! So…you think it is amusing to turn a school corridor into a swamp, do you?" Umbridge announced, peering down at my boys triumphantly.

Had it been me, I would probably be in tears at this point. Then again, had it been me, I would not have turned the entire corridor into a swamp, either. So, really, it should not have surprised me that the twins were less than terrified.

"Pretty amusing, yeah," Fred nodded.

Cocky.

Filch, who had never looked so happy since I had been at Hogwarts (probably in his entire life, actually), forced his way to Umbridge. "I've got the form, Headmistress. I've got the form-" Angie frowned at me as we both wondered _what form?_, "-and I've got the whips waiting…"

"Merlin!" Angie gasped and threw her hands over her mouth. "Did he just say…?"

"Yeah," I interrupted, not particularly keen on having the word repeated. Still, Fred and George were unfazed. "Yes, he did."

"What are they turning this place in to?" she muttered. Her eyes were still wide with shock and fear as she grabbed my shoulders for balance, which threw me off balance, which nearly sent Roger's girlfriend toppling into Justin Finch-Fletchley.

"You two," Umbridge continued, "are about to learn what happens to wrongdoers in my school."

"You know what? I don't think we are?" Fred shook his head and looked at George. "George, I think we've outgrown full-time education."

"Yeah," George nodded flippantly, "I've been feeling that way myself."

"Time to test our talents in the real world, d'you reckon?"

"Definitely."

It shocked us all when the boys _accio_'d for their brooms, the hall filling with gasps and laughs and grunts of panic from the Inquisitorial Prats. I laughed out loud when Harry ducked to avoid being hit by the chains trailing from said brooms; my mood was much lighter with an escape plan in sight, and seeing Harry almost take a chain to the face was admittedly amusing. Umbridge sputtered as the boys mounted their brooms, and gave their parting words.

"We won't be seeing you," Fred announced.

"Yeah, don't bother to keep in touch," George agreed.

Fred eyed the gathered crowed, giving Angie a quick, cocky wink before announcing, "If anyone fancies buying a Portable Swamp, as demonstrated upstairs, come to number ninety-three Diagon Alley – Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. Our new premises!"

"They bought a building?" I gasped, whirling to Angie. "I didn't know they already had a building. Did you know they already had a building?"

"How the hell was I supposed to know? _You're_ dating one of them!"

"Special discounts to Hogwarts students who swear they're going to use our products to get rid of this old bat," George grinned, pointing at Umbridge, who promptly ordered her squad to catch them.

The boys were too quick, though. They kicked off, whizzing over the crowd so low that everyone had to duck. They stopped in front of us (way to not attract attention our way), and while George ruffled my hair, Fred caught Angie's face in his hands and captured her lips in a searing kiss. The moment was over all too quickly; by the time I batted his hand away and Angie realized what had just happened, the boys shot up into the air to leave me smiling and Angie frozen far below them. Fred stopped one last time and looked at Peeves, who must have appeared in the chaos without my noticing.

"Give her hell from us, Peeves."

And they were gone. As the crowd erupted into applause, Peeves saluted our boys, and Umbridge sputtered out protests that would do absolutely nothing, they had flown into the sunset.

Free.

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you all so much for the wonderful reviews. This story has over 11,000 hits! I can't believe that. Thank you so much for reading! <strong>

_**Next Chapter**_**: The Heart and the Head**


	31. The Heart and the Head

Madam Pince eyed me suspiciously as I popped up suddenly from behind a bookshelf, a tendency I had that she loathed. I got the impression that she loathed most things that I did. In fact, I rather had the impression that she loathed most things, particularly teenagers.

Outside the windows of my secure little Hogwarts, the wind howled like tortured souls, and I instinctively shrunk away from the outer walls towards a table where I set down my book on mountain animals, adding it to the stack I already had. A flash of lightning sliced across the morning sky, illuminating the dark recesses of the library that the wall sconces did not. I curled into my seat tightly, pulling my knees to my chest and resting my heels on the edge of the seat, much to Madam Pince's chagrin. She narrowed her eyes at me, but a deafening _ba-wa-koom_ of thunder made us both jump, and I let out a squeak that our cheerful librarian must not have heard.

I snapped open the book and began to read, thankful for a bit of research to serve as a distraction. Bears….bears…no, not birds, bears…ah, bears. I never knew how many types of bears there were, blacks and browns and grizzlies and kodiaks. I could tell you all about werewolves and unicorns and blast-ended skrewts and, but something as simple as a bear had absolutely escaped my realm of study. No longer.

Somewhere in the middle of book number three, proper camping trip safety measures, a hand on my shoulder made me shriek, but there was a well-timed crack of thunder to mask it. I whirled on my attacker, fumbling for my wand, but stopped and let out a sigh of relief when I saw Angie, Katie, Alicia, and Lee.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" Angie scolded, dropping into the seat next to me. "You know how dangerous it is for us to get caught out of bed. What on earth are you doing?"

"Researching," I mumbled, motioning to the books in front of me. "Don't treat me like a child. Of course I knew it's dangerous."

"I'm not…" Angie trailed off and massaged the bridge of her nose. "You're not a child, Mel; I'm just worried. Umbridge is watching all of us like a hawk, especially you and me. We can't put one toe out of line."

Of course I knew that. "I waited 'til curfew ended. I just really wanted to research."

"Research…bears?" Katie wrinkled her nose. "Why?"

"Well, they're really interesting! Did you know that bears don't like to be surprised? If you startle them, they're likely to attack out of fright."

"I think bears are likely to attack out of the fact that they're bears," Lee mumbled, sitting on the table top. Madam Pince cleared her throat pointedly, but he either ignored her or did not realize it was aimed at him.

I shook my head, eager to share my newfound knowledge. "No, see, but that's not true. They aren't violent by nature. They attack only to protect themselves. Emmmm, they don't like to be crowded because they feel outnumbered, and it frightens them into attacking. They don't like to take unnecessary risks, don't like it when they can't watch their own backs, are afraid of cats-"

"That can't be true," Katie laughed.

I grabbed one of the textbooks, skimmed the page it was opened to, put it back, grabbed another one, skimmed again until I found what I was looking for, and shoved it at Katie. She read the paragraph and hummed her fascination.

"They're also afraid of fire, loud music, and sometimes even storms. But people, ah," I grabbed another book and shoved it into Angie's hands, "people are the worst. They're absolutely terrified of people. We scare the hell out of them. See, I thought bears were these big, scary animals that would just tear you to shreds with their big, scary teeth, but that's not it at all. They have all this strength and power, but they don't want to use it. They only attack when provoked. They only do it…" I caught the glare Angie was giving me, "…to...survive…"

She dropped the book on the table, and Madam Pince glared at us again. "Mel. It's breakfast time. Did you even sleep last night?"

Awkward. I sunk into my seat, wishing that my Mrs. Weasley sweater was big enough for me to disappear in. Only Angelina Johnson could make you feel so childish with just one look. "B-bears also…"

"Mel," Angie splayed her hands across my textbooks symbolically. She knew I had all the information memorized and ready to spew off by heart. "Why are you researching bears before breakfast? Shouldn't you be studying for N.E.W.T.s? Isn't that what you _do_?"

"Nuh-uh," I protested, crossing my arms over my chest childishly. "I also research bears."

Angie massaged the bridge of her nose. "Why?"

"Patronus."

"Figures," she muttered. "Look, am I obsessed over why mine is a ram? No. It just is. Cho's is a swan, and that's bloody strange, but she's not down here with books on water fowl, is she? No one else is trying to figure out the hidden meanings of them. They are what they are."

"But _why_? I had to know why, and now I do. It all makes…" I was interrupted by another clap of thunder that made me squeeze my eyes shut and clench my fists until it was over. "It all makes sense now. Gentle until provoked. Fight when frightened. Scared of almost everything. What does that remind you of?"

"A bear!" Alicia supplied happily. Katie smacked her arm.

"She _meant_ the bear, idiot," Katie hissed.

"Well, _sorry_, I didn't _know_ that, did I?" Alicia hissed back. Angie shot them one of her death glares, and they both stilled.

"Why now, Mel? Why at 6 in the morning on a Saturday? Bears couldn't wait until after lunch?" I bit my lip and looked sheepishly at my knees. "It's the storm, isn't it? You normally went to Fred and George during storms." All six and three-quarters years.

"You're afraid of storms?" Lee piped up. "I never noticed that." No, of course not. You missed the two of them being swept out of the room in the middle of the night when their father was attacked and nearly killed earlier in the school year. Of course you never noticed me creeping into your room. You could sleep through the next Wizarding War, Lee Jordan.

"I am _not_ afraid of storms."

There was a desperate howl of wind, and rain thrashed against the window in rhythmic wallops. I glanced around the library quickly and pulled my knees closer to my chest.

"Looks like you're afraid," Lee shrugged.

"She's not," Angie corrected, eyes still on me.

"I'm not," I confirmed. "It's not the storm. It's what the storm hides. They're so, so _loud_. There's wind and rain and thunder, and you can't hear anything else. Anything could happen during a storm, and you wouldn't know. It's why all the horror stories take place during a storm. They mask the sounds. Like how I didn't hear you lot come into the library; you walked right up to me, and I had no idea. I nearly hexed Angie because I couldn't hear you. Storms take away one of your basic senses, and I don't like being cut-off and not being able to do anything about it!"

Katie's eyes widened. "Remind me never to cast a muffliato around you," she murmured.

"You have the most rational irrational fears I've ever heard," Alicia added breathlessly. Angie glowered at them again.

"Right," Lee nodded, sliding off the table. "Not afraid of storms. Got it. Can we take our four usable senses to the Great Hall? It's breakfast, and the storm isn't hindering our sense of taste, so I'd rather like some waffles."

I laughed and snapped all my books shut. "Yeah," I agreed, throwing an arm first around him, then around Angie. "Food sounds wonderful."

Angie rolled her eyes and threw my arm off, scooting ahead of the group with her long strides. I scurried to keep up and flung my arm around her again, earning myself another eye roll. I glanced back at the rest of our friends, who were all distracted by Lee's impression of a bear (which was terrible), so I seized my opportunity.

"Angie, it's been a week since the twins left. Do you want to talk about what hap-"

"No," she answered shortly, shrugging out of my arm again. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Has Fred written you?"

"Sorry, my hearing must be off. I could have sworn I just said I don't want to talk about it."

"He kissed you," I hissed, angry at how easily she could avoid the topic. "Sorry for thinking that's a big deal, Ang!"

"It's not," she insisted, matching my irritation in her own snapped whisper. "We've kissed before. It was good-bye. It's what we do."

"You and Fred make out in front of the entire school on regular occasions?" I raised my eyebrows. Angie narrowed her eyes at me menacingly.

"It was nothing."

"Was not."

"Melbecka. Drop it."

"Fine," I held my hands up. "I will. For now. But this will not go away. You can't pretend this is no big deal."

"Watch me."

FGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFG

The storm ended shortly after lunch, leaving the world cold, grey, and damp. The halls were nearly deserted when I hovered awkwardly in the doorway to Professor Flitwick's office. No students went rushing by on their way to class or to meet with friends. It seemed now that Fred and George were gone, the very life was draining out of this school. As if to prove me wrong, the faint echo of a loud pop drifted to my ears, followed closely by several high-pitched squeals and some shouting. Many had taken up the pranking mantra now that my boys were gone.

It was not the same.

"Professor Flitwick?"

My head of house glanced up from whatever he was writing and motioned me in before returning to his writing. "Come in, Miss harper."

I took two tentative steps inside, marveling at how strong the scent of mint tea was in the room. I thought he only ever drank earl grey. Huh. "I have a question, sir."

"Your charms essay was excellent, dear, no need to fret," he mumbled offhandedly.

"I don't know…wait, really?" I grinned, eyes alighting with the joy that only good marks can provide. "See, I was worried about it because you told us to write about the charm's uses, and when I stumbled on how the Aborigines culture in Australia uses it, I felt I really had to include that, too. I mean, it is _so_ unique, isn't it? But, then the essay got so long with all of that, and I thought, 'Well, maybe he only wants _British_ uses, but you didn't _say_ that, you just said _uses_, so I thought, 'Eh, what the hell', and I…" Off-topic, Melbecka. So very off-topic. "So…it got good…marks…then?"

Professor Flitwick grinned in fatherly amusement at my ramblings. "Yes, it got very good marks. A most intriguing read."

"Oh. Good. Tha…that's not why I came." I shifted my weight uncomfortably and kneaded my hands together in front of me.

"I can see that," he nodded, writing a few more words down on the parchment in front of him. "What did bring you here?"

A very good question, sir, but not one so easily answered. There comes a point in your life when you realize that something is wrong, so dreadfully wrong, but putting it into words feels just out of your capabilities. That was how I felt as I stood before Professor Flitwick. I opened my mouth to speak, decided that wording was rubbish, and shut my mouth again. After an awkward moment of silence, during which Professor Flitwick continued to write but raised his eyebrows curiously, I started to form a word and then quickly clamped my mouth shut. Finally, I knew I just had to be out with it, so I sucked in a deep breath, let it out slowly, and, in the tiniest voice that I had ever heard myself produce, said the first words that I thought of.

"I don't know what to do."

Professor Flitwick looked up from his paperwork slowly and set his quill down. "Well, it is half an hour before dinner, and I believe this is customarily when students meet their friends before…"

"No, no," I waved him off, perching on the edge of the chair and resting my elbows on his desk, "that's not what I mean. I don't mean that I don't know what to do _right now_. I mean that I don't know what to do in, say, six months when everyone else will be loading their trunks onto the Hogwarts Express, bound for another rollicking romp through the halls of Hogwarts, and I'm, well, _not_. I'll be staring down the face of 19 years of age, expected to be starting my own life with a proper job and some sort of potential, but how? What am I supposed to do?"

"I thought that you wanted to be a potioneer."

"Well, yeah, of course," I rolled my eyes, slumping back in the chair. "That's easy to say during your 5th year interview. It's easy to imagine a lot of things back then. You just think you'll pop out of here and spend you're day brewing potions and somehow make the galleons from it, and you'll get married and have children, and everything will be wonderful. It doesn't work that way, though, does it? I can't just sit around my house, which I don't actually _have_, mind you, brewing potions. I have to do something with them!" I threw my hands in the air and let them slap back against the armrests of the chair as Professor Flitwick patiently watched my outburst with his hands folded under his chin for support.

"I mean, I supposed I could be a teacher, but Hogwarts's position is clearly already taken, and I would have to move to teach anywhere else, but I wouldn't want to do that, because everyone knows that Hogwarts is the best, so anywhere else would just be filled with loads of dunderheads that would just frustrate me with their stupidity, but, judging by my interactions with first years, I don't really think I'm really cut out for teaching young children anyway." I paused to catch my breath. Fast-paced rambling really takes a lot out of a girl.

"So, then I'm back to brewing potions all day. Then, I have to sell them somehow, but you can't just randomly start selling potions. I can't afford to open my own shop, so I would have to sell my stuff to pre-established shops. That means that I would have to undercut other potioneers trying to do the same thing, which adds this whole level of economy that sounds so painfully dreadful. Plus, I would have to establish myself as someone noteworthy, and I'm frankly not all that sure that my potion-making abilities are all that good compared to people already out there. Sure, they shine here in the halls of Hogwarts, but this is _hardly_ the real world."

Professor Flitwick opened his mouth to interject, but I was not at all finished and plowed straight through whatever he attempted to say. "Maybe, though, I could attach my services to a particular store and brew particularly for them, you might think. There's a problem with that, though. Two, in fact, and their names are Fred and George Weasley." Professor Flitwick tipped his head down to look at me knowingly over the top rim of his glasses. "I know, I know, basing my life decisions around a boy. I'm already getting the owls from me mum," I waved off the concerns I imagined he wanted to voice. "Just hear me out. They're opening a joke shop, right? Don't worry; all funds to start the shop were legally attained. Now, if I attach myself to another store, even one that's not a joke shop, I'm sort of in direct competition with them, aren't I? Whoever they get will be producing essentially a comparable product to the one that I am producing. It won't be as good, of course, but it will be comparable. I don't want to compete with them. But, if I work with them and things were to go sour, I would lose my boyfriend and my job, and I don't want that either." I slumped even further into my seat. "So, you see, I simply don't know what to do, sir!"

Professor Flitwick was quiet for a long while, probably trying to process all of my spewed ramblings into some semblance of organized thoughts. I wished him the best of luck with that. When he finally did speak, he offered me a warm smile and a light chuckle.

"Melbecka, if there is one thing I have learned over the past seven years, it is this: You will always find the right path. You may take the roundabout way getting there, but get there you will. That's what makes you such a superb Ravenclaw; your mind works well not only with books and facts and figures, but also with the real world. You don't know how many first year Ravenclaw students I get that know all the charms I teach the first term but cannot tie their own tie without the aid of magic. You've always surpassed your peers in that regard."

"Yeah, well, mum never let me tie a tie with magic. Always worried I would slip up and strangle myself," I mumbled. "But, sir, I'm not looking at two equally logical decisions here. I can't just look at them with my brain and pick the one I know is right. My heart keeps telling me what to do, and my mind can't figure out if it's right or not. It feels like my heart is making the decision, not my head."

Professor Flitwick gave me that fatherly smile again, and I realized that I would really miss him after I left this old school behind me. Other professors, not so much. I could quite happily leave Professor Hagrid in the far recesses of my memory. This man, though, would always hold a dear place in my heart.

"Melbecka. Dear. Would that really be so bad?"

* * *

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_**Next Chapter**_**: The Proposal**


	32. The Proposal

_Dear Mellie,_

_ Sorry it took so long to write. The owls around here have been pretty busy lately, but I swear it's been worth it. Look, see, obviously returning home was not in our best interest after that show we put on, but Fred insisted that we had to get things, and Mum was a right treat to deal with. Well, after a solid hour of listening to her blow her top, Fred and I decided to leave. So, we took a room at the Leaky Cauldron, and what a fortunate event that was. Of course, Mum even found us there, had a howler in our laps the very next day. But, our new location in Diagon Alley was perfect for beginning work on the shop. Thus, an empire has been born. You'll love it. It's not much yet. We've got nowhere near enough stock to fill it up, but it will be ready by the time you get out of that place, I promise. We've even got a living area above the store so we don't have to live at home, which has turned out to be a blessing. Mum can only yell at us every few days via post now. It's brilliant._

_ You know, I half expected men with hoods to show up in the middle of the night to snap our wands in half. Didn't happen, though. Turns out they only do that if you get expelled. Leaving under your own terms means you get to keep your magic._

_ Imagine that. Me, a Hogwarts drop-out._

_ We always knew we were headed for the top! _

_ Mum must be so proud._

_ Love you,_

_ George_

FGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFG

_ Dear George,_

_ They're monitoring the post. She's screening every letter of everyone's mail unless they're Inquisitorial Squad. _

_ I love you and dearly miss our witty repartee._

_ Please don't write._

_ Love,_

_ Mel_

FGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFG

_ Dear Fred,_

_ DO NOT LET GEORGE SEE THIS. Don't. Is he reading right now? Hurt him for me. Seriously. Just get him right in the stomach with your elbow. He hates that. I do it all the time. DO IT. Thank you. Now we can continue. You didn't do it, did you? HIT HIM IN THE GUT! Good. Down to business._

_ I have a proposal for you, one that I really want you to consider as unbiased as possible. I write to you not as Mel, you're best mate and brother's girlfriend. Forget all that. I'm writing as Melbecka Harper, job applicant. Potioneer. By the time this job offer becomes relevant, I'll have all the official training and N.E.W.T.S and all to really be a potioneer, anyway. Not that I couldn't do the job fully right now, but to really have the title, it would help to have the credentials. I could brew the bogies out of anyone in the school, but that is completely and utterly beside the point and I ask you now to please ignore how completely unprofessional and off-topic that was._

_ It appears that, in a few months' time, you will have a fledgling shop on your hands. This shop could greatly benefit from the addition of a full-time employee with a particular talent and focus in the art of potion making. Namely, the addition of myself. In this position, I would be willing to do all the annoying bits that I'm sure you and George don't realize that you need to do. Let me point them out. 1- You'll need antidotes for a lot of those pranks; it's not just your little candies that can do damage, you know. Antidotes are a pain in the ass to make and require bizarre ingredients, extreme patience, intense curiosity, an inquisitive nature, and, quite frankly, the mind of a Ravenclaw. I am your girl. 2- You might find some products benefit from the addition of a potion. Add a bit of swelling solution to a firework, who knows what may happen? You try making a swelling solution, Fred. Tell me what bits of yourself turn green. Seriously, it's a very real side effect of improper brewing. No, now that I think about it, _don't_ tell me what bits turn green. I have a sneaking suspicion I already know what you'll say. 3- Temporary love potions will sell like mad around Valentine's Day and Christmas, especially to idiotic girls. Not a prank, I know, but a money maker. I can brew it._

_ I'd even be willing to sit around and be your shop girl. You can't brew 24/7, after all. I could even have the cauldron with me. I'll brew anytime, anyplace, although most people tend to get iffy when they see a potion brewing in public. I assure you that it is perfectly harmless._

_ Mind you, if you don't hire me for this, I'll still end up being your shop girl. That one, I _will _ask George about. This part is Mel-your-mate writing. I can't ask George about this, Freddie. He'll feel that he has to say yes even if he doesn't really want to just because it's me asking. I don't want that. I want to be hired because you actually want me. I know there are a million reasons not to hire me, and it's probably crazy and stupid to even ask, but how could I not? That's why I'm asking you. I know you can look at this impartially. You're more logical, not as emotionally charged as George is (and yes, by that I mean exactly what you think. Maybe if you would just ask Angie on a date already…but I digress). _

_ One last thing. If you don't want me, that's fine. Send me a BRIEF letter. As short as possible. In fact, just send the word 'no' on a slip of paper. I'm sure George told you they're monitoring my post. I've written this instead of doing my ancient runes translation and have yet to figure out how I'm going to get it out of the school unnoticed. Obviously, I figured out a way, because you're reading this. Anyway, after you decide to turn down my offer, destroy this so George never sees it. Rip it to shreds, burn it, bury it, feed it to a kappa, I don't care, just don't let him see it. I don't want him to have that obligation, and you shouldn't want that, either._

_ Should you decide that my proposal has merit, still destroy this using the method of your choice (just, please, don't let it be through explosion. I worked hard on this!). Go to George as if the whole plan to hire me was an idea of your creation that you two have to convince me to accept. No obligations, see?_

_ Hope you boys are doing well. Consider the offer, but do what you think is best. And, for Rowena's sake, take care of yourselves. You both need to be in one solid piece when I get out or I'll murder you._

_ Love_

_ Mel_

_P.S. Write to Angie, you bogie-brained twat!_

_P.P.S. Keep all personal information out of Angie correspondences. Did I mention the post is still being monitored? Well, it is._

_P.P.P.S. WRITE TO ANGIE!_

FGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFG

_ Mel,_

_ You're mental._

_ You're hired._

_ Much love,_

_ Fred and George_

_ P.S. Thanks for the laughs. _

FGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFG

_ Angie,_

_ Mel told me to write you. I figured I should say that because I wasn't going to write to you otherwise, and, as much as I want to appear suave and sophisticated, the truth is that I am a bogie-brained twat. Those are Mel's words, too, actually. This letter does contain original thoughts, I swear. It's in here somewhere. _

_ I suppose I probably embarrassed you when we left, what with that__ kiss and all. I didn't mean to do that. I just __needed__ to kiss you. I hadn't really planned on it. It was a thing. It happened. I don't know. I guess I don't really have an excuse for it._

_ Not that I need an excuse for kissing you. Or for wanting to kiss you. I don't want to get in trouble for saying that. I'm just saying that __this one was different;__ we've always been able to talk about this stuff in the past, but I'm not really there to talk about it now. We need to. There are too many things I need to say that I can't. But, I will. _

_ You'll just have to visit as soon as you can! We'll talk then, I promise. First chance we get. You and me._

_ Always,_

_ Fred_

I grinned at Angie over my plate of sausage and eggs as we sat at the Gryffindor table for breakfast that sunny Saturday, and she glowered at me as she bit her toast with extreme vigor. She snatched her letter back, folded it up, and shoved it into her pocket.

"I can't believe you," she grumbled. "I told you I didn't want to talk about it."

"You said you didn't want to talk to _me_ about it. This is Fred. And yo-o-ou liiiiiike himmmmmmm," I sang tauntingly. Angie blushed profusely, evident even through her dark skin, and shoved my shoulder. "You want to huuuuuug him, you want to kiiiiiiiis him-"

"I want to kiiiiiiiiiill you," she sang, matching my juvenile tune. She could not suppress her grin, though, and it gave away her true feelings.

"You like him, just admit it," I giggled, and she bit her bottom lip to keep from completely beaming at me. "And he likes you, too, see?" I pointed to the pocketing housing her letter. "I did good, didn't I?"

Angie laughed and shoved me playfully. "Yes, Mel. You did good."

FGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFG

Cho already sat sullenly in the Ravenclaw changing room as the rest of us filed in for the final Quidditch match of the season. Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw. It meant absolutely nothing to us at this point; the cup was, yet again, between Slytherin and Gryffindor. Our abysmal loss to Slytherin (due to a combination of a bludger-shy Keeper, a lovesick Seeker, and a Beater with the hiccups) had taken us out of the running. We became the determining factor. If Gryffindor beat us, they won the cup. If we beat them, Slytherin took it.

We had been in such a position several times before, but this time was different. Usually, we were rooting for or against another house and felt marginally better after a loss due to the knowledge that at least we won them the cup. That day, though, we had no alliances. After Jules smashed an apple tart in her Inquisitorial Squad boyfriend's face for docking points, any allegiance we may have felt towards Slytherin was gone (not that we particularly had any. We didn't). Cho's mood, however, after her fight with Harry over the end of DA made it awkward for us to support Gryffindor, either. As much as we may love those daft little lions, she was our teammate, and she wanted to beat the living daylights out of them.

That could be arranged.

"Right," Roger clapped his hands together smartly. "We're going to play our best, yeah? It's just another match."

"Another match where we get to hand Gryffindor their asses!" Bradley grinned.

"We'll score so many goals it won't matter who gets the snitch," Chambers snorted.

"Oy," I jokingly warned, "you never know. He may fall off his broom and catch the thing."

"True." Jules pretended to agree, eyes wide with faked fear. "You never know with that Weasley prodigy."

Roger laughed at us. "Don't let that stupid Slytherin song get to your heads. This is a match for the cup. Any of them could turn into a star out there. Cho, you all right?"

"Hmm?" she looked up as we all grabbed our brooms and made for the pitch. "Oh, yeah, I'm brilliant. I just want to beat them and shove it in Harry's face."

"Ah, yes, the perfect way to fix a relationship," he rolled his eyes as Lee less-than-enthusiastically announced our names. Cho laughed.

She tossed her hair over her shoulder, aided by the late-May breeze. "Today is so not about relationships, Roger. It's about winning."

Roger and I shared a smile as we mounted our brooms and waited for the whistle. "There's my girl," he grinned. Madam Hooch blew the whistle, and we were off.

Davies immediately grabbed the Quaffle and headed downfield. Johnson zoomed towards him to interrupt his pacing, but he expertly swung around her and then Bell. I cocked my head and watched Gryffindor's new formation and nodded as Spinnet made the next attempt to throw him off. They had practicing. A lot. I smiled. That Angelina Johnson. She was a damn good captain.

Then, I cheered, throwing my fists up in the air and then slapping a high-five with Lowell as he passed. Davies scored. Ha. Take that.

10-0.

After that, things went downhill fast. We had high hopes when, for the first time in three years, we actually intercepted a pass. Bradley snagged the Quaffle out of mid-air, snatching it away from Spinnet's outstretched arms as if he did that every day.

_Weasley is our king-_

"Cor, I really hate that song," Jules grunted, batting a Bludger away from me and towards Ginny Weasley for no particular reason.

Bradley leaned towards the left hoop, but, at the last second, pivoted his broom around as put all of his might behind a throw at the far right hoop. A textbook feint. Too bad Ron Weasley was already heading in that direction.

"WHAT?" Jules and I exploded as Ron caught the Quaffle to an eruption of Gryffindor cheers. Jules added, "Where the hell did that come from?" as the singing came to a screeching halt.

I gaped at Ron and exclaimed, "What?" again. I was stunned at this expert display of goalkeeping. Sure, it was a move any of the rest of us could pull off easily enough, but he had trouble catching throws aimed directly at him. How on earth did he realize that Bradley was feinting?

The whole Ravenclaw team was stunned. Lowell swung miles too late and completely missed a bludger, and Jules was too busy gaping to even see it until it hit the bat out of her hands. Chambers had to fly up and haul Bradley, broom and all, away from the hoops before our bested Chaser attacked the youngest Weasley boy. Davies was frozen mid-pitch.

I let out another breathless, "What?" and completely missed Angelina Johnson whizz the Quaffle past my ear and into the hoop.

10-10.

"What the hell, Harper?" Davies swore, spinning on me suddenly.

"Shut your trap. You haven't even moved in ten minutes!" I snapped.

"Where the fuck is my bat?" Jules screamed, her voice echoing across the pitch.

Chambers made a disgusted face as he waved his arms embarrassingly in an attempt to intercept the Quaffle (which failed). "How the hell do you lose your bat?"

"_Would you all shut up?_" Cho snapped at us as she hovered and carefully scanned the skies for a glint of gold. Her harsh order sobered us. We were losing focus.

When Spinnet came towards my left hoop but glanced at the right one, I almost laughed at how obvious she was. Who mimics the feinting maneuver they just saw, especially when it failed? The catch was too easy, but the Ravenclaws and Slytherins cheered ferociously. If Weasley was going to get that much love for a routine catch, they were going to give it to me, too. I had no absolutely no problem with that train of thought.

I did have a problem, however, with Davies making no move to cut off Gryffindor as they tore down the field. Bell flew right by him, but he barely moved until she was passed.

"What was that, Davies?" I yelled. He flipped me off and muttered something to himself, lips moving fiercely, as he flew to catch up. Everyone lost focus on the pitch sometimes, as my earlier passed-goal showed, but that did not mean I had to let him off easy.

"Leave him alone," Lowell grunted as he sent a Bludger whizzing in front of Johnson's nose. She squeaked in surprise and dropped the Quaffle. Chambers raced towards it, playing a dangerous game of mid-air chicken with Alicia Spinnet. He kept his eyes on the Quaffle while she kept glancing on him, and she finally wimped out and pulled up, giving him the Quaffle. Cheers went up from Ravenclaw and Slytherin as he rolled to avoid a bludger, which I must say was very poorly hit.

Chambers tried the simple approach, flying in low and pulling up suddenly to chuck the Quaffle threw a hoop. Problem was, Weasley was right there when he pulled up, and the Gryffindor smacked the Quaffle right out of his hand.

"Bat bogies," I mumbled. Why, oh why, did he have to pick today to master Quidditch? Why did he figure it out now?

Davies flew up to me as Johnson and Bradly raced for the Quaffle, Johnson coming out on top. "Should I call a time out?"

I shook my head. "What good will it do?"

"Get our heads back in the game," he shrugged.

"Our heads are in the game. We want this. How were we supposed to know the ginger could play?"

Roger shook his head and let out a short sigh that puffed up his windswept hair. "Of all the days to get good."

He had to leave at that point as Bradley managed to intercept again. Twice in one game. We almost looked good.

But then, the unthinkable happened. Cho flew up high to look down on the pitch, still scanning for that gleaming gold Snitch, and Ginny Weasley came racing towards her. Seekers did that a lot under the assumption that the other Seeker had seen something they had not, so none of us thought anything of it. Then, Lowell let out a yell.

"Cho! Snitch!"

"What?" Cho frowned, turning her head towards him. As she did, the Golden Snitch brushed against her chin. It was _that close_. It touched her chin.

And Ginny Weasley's fist closed around it.

The stands erupted in chaos. Gryffindor did it! They won the cup! I should have been absolutely ecstatic, but considering that they had done it by beating us and in such a fashion, I was not. I was pissed. I was pissed as I flew to the ground. I was pissed as I landed. I was pissed as angry tears began flowing down Cho's face, significantly different than the mournful, pathetic ones she had shed for most of the year. Cho landed after all of us had already dismounted, and, in the middle of the swarm of Gryffindor students filing onto the pitch, she throttled her broom and chucked it as far as she could.

That about summed it up.

She joined us as we shrugged through the celebration, eager to leave it all behind us. What a match. We had a lost before, of course, and much more abysmally. That one, though. That one hurt.

Davies held open the locker door for all of us to file in, muttering through a half-hearted pep talk under his breath so he could give it to us when we were all assembled so we did not kill ourselves or something. I was last in line and was just giving him our customary losing eye roll when we heard it. The song.

_Weasley is our King,_

_ Weasley is our King,_

_ He didn't let the Quaffle in,_

_ Weasley is our King_

_ Weasley can save anything,_

_ He never leaves a single ring,_

_ That's why Gryffindors all sing_

_ Weasley is our king_

"Oh, I'll kill them," he hissed. He made a point of yanking the door shut so we could not hear them anymore. I balled up my robes and chucked them at the wall. My undershirt was sweaty and my shorts felt suddenly itchy as my teammates pointedly ignored my outburst. Jules had already beaten her bat against the wall until it snapped, a habit she had after every match we lost. The half with the handle sat in her hands, and Chambers held the other shattered end with a bit of a surprised face. I imagine it flew at him after separating and nearly took his eye out. It would explain how white his face was.

"Right," Roger sighed. "I don't really have anything to say about that."

"I do," Jules announced.

"You, hush," he ordered sharply, and it garnered a few half-hearted chuckles from everyone, even Cho. "Look, the house elves are going to be busy getting food ready for Gryffindor to celebrate, so there's no chance of celebrating the end of the season that way. Bu-ut, they'll be so busy that they won't notice if, say, a few Chasers were to sneak in to the kitchens and sneak out with some butterbeer."

"They have butterbeer in the kitchens?" Lowell asked, eyes lighting up. We all stared at him like he was an idiot. Did he really not understand what an important ingredient alcohol was in nearly every entrée? "What? Why do always look at me like that? Seriously!"

Roger slapped his forehead and dragged his hand down his face. "How are you a Ravenclaw?" he mumbled. "All right! Bradley, Chambers, are you in?"

"Definitely!" Bradley grinned, and Chambers nodded with mischievous enthusiasm.

"If you get caught, I am not joining in detention," Cho warned them.

"Please," Chambers rolled his eyes. "We're Ravenclaws. No one will ever know."

"Or suspect us when they notice it's gone," Bradley grinned. "Say, this losing thing isn't so bad, is it?"

"We'll have to wait for a while until everyone clears out of the common room. You know, just in case. It shouldn't be too long; they'll all go to bed pretty quick after that," Roger pointed out. "So, let's clean up, yeah?"

We all agreed, and the boys headed towards their changing area. Roger stopped in front of me, though, and I gave him a sigh and a pat on the shoulder. He held out his free arm, and I wrapped him in a hug. Our last match together. Ever. He was going on to be a Healer, hopefully at St. Mungo's. I was going to brew potions for a joke shop and fight You-Know-Who. Quidditch was behind us now forever. And, boy, was it a heartbreaker to go out like that.

"We did our best," he murmured into my hair.

"We did," I agreed. "That's why I hate them."

"Oh, I do, too," he nodded as he let me go. We laughed at that. "Next Quidditch World Cup, let's go, yeah?"

"Yeah," I grinned. "Let's go to every one."

"Yeah!" he beamed. "Even if we don't give an ogre's tooth who's playing. Deal?" He stuck out his hand, and I shook it vigorously before throwing my arms around his neck.

"Deal," I murmured.

* * *

><p><strong>That one came out longer than I thought it would! I hope you don't mind the length. And, because I haven't in a while, I should remind you that I claim no rights to any Harry Potter stuff. The only creation I have is Mel; anything that you know from readingviewing HP material came from a mind much more brilliant than mine.**

_**Next Chapter:**_** N.E.W.T.S**


	33. NEWTS

Meals were tense events in the days leading up to the N.E.W.T.S, which occurred simultaneously with O.W.L.S. The Ravenclaw table was simply not long enough for all of us to sit there with our open textbooks and our plates and the food, so sacrifices had to be made. As a class, we chose to sacrifice food. The seventh and fifth year Ravenclaws found ourselves banished to one end of the table, an end with books and parchments and furiously flying auto-write quills (to save the space of an inkwell), and the rest of the house watched us with wide eyes as they contemplated their futures.

We sat in class with unwavering attention. Davies, Bradley, and I found ourselves down a man in Herbology with George gone, but we were so focused on learning everything there ever was to know about plants that we hardly noticed his absence. Three scared witless (but highly determined) Ravenclaws was easily equivalent to four students drudging through the daily routine. The common room fire crackled with life into the wee hours of the morning as we sat in silence, flipping through books and muttering spells and transfiguring pillows into puppies into lamps into tea kettles.

Whenever Roger would see me in the hall, he would toss a phrase at me to translate for Ancient Runes, and I made sure to do the same for him. At dinner, when Flitwick absolutely insisted that we ate, it was common for slices of ham to levitate and the occasional plate to turn from gold to silver to copper and back. For my part, I focused on silent incantations, staring fixatedly at the pumpkin juice until I could pour myself a glass without even moving my hand.

"What the hell?" Roger swore. "How am I going to get an O in charms with you doing that?"

I had to wait for the pitcher to sit comfortably back on the table before I spoke, but my head immediately began to throb from the magic that had pulsed through it. I grabbed my temples as if that would hold my brains in. "You'll be fine," I mumbled.

"Ha, that took the wick out of you, didn't it?" he grinned. "Showoff."

"Shove it," I grumbled. "Or I'll hit it against your head."

"Bet a sickle you can't do it twice."

Made a sickle. Got a migraine.

I took to potion making – stirring brews and grinding and chopping ingredients – by making the motions with my hand sans wand. I also read up on Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures, easily my worst subjects, while brewing the potions, and began turning the pages with the waggle of a finger. It became tiring very quickly, and I often found myself turning the page of my book instead of slicing my dandelion root or vice versa. Many potions were ruined, but it was worth. I wanted to master wandless magic; DA had showed me that I was not the fastest on the _Expelliarmus_. In a duel with Fred, I would be goner, and I had the feeling I would be going up against slightly more experienced opponents than that. Plus, as Roger had pointed out, how awesome would it look in my charms practical to whip out some wandless magic? I had _wingardium leviosa_ down pretty well, despite the migraines, and _scourgify _was the next logical one I picked up after all of the potion accidents this endeavor created. After accidentally sending valerian root for a Draught of Living Death into the flame under my cauldron, lunging to save it, and suffering burns that had Madam Pomfrey clucking at me as if I were a pathetically absent-minded child, I decided that the flame-freezing charm was the next one to wandlessly master.

Angie and Lee thought it was all quite ridiculous, of course. They were putting in their study time, obviously, but not nearly as intensely as we were. They still found time to wander outside and drop dungbombs in the hallway. Lee figured out how to levitate niflers into Umbridge's office through her open window (really, who leaves their window open with all the pranks going around?). With all the pranksters running rampant, bubblehead charms became a common site in the halls, and Angie and Lee seemed to enjoy this new environment. We Ravenclaws just found it a hindrance to our studying.

When the first morning of the two-week examinations came, I felt physically sick to my stomach. Katie came over to the Ravenclaw table, scooped a bowl of oatmeal for me, and sprinkled cinnamon on top, just the way I liked it, but the mush that I normally loved so dearly only reminded me of colorless vomit that day. I shoved it at Roger, and he gagged and pushed it to Cho. She threw a hand over her mouth, squeezed her eyes shut, and delicately pushed the bowl away.

"I think I just threw up in my mouth," she mumbled. Without breaking from the stream of Herbology information he was now muttering, Roger handed her a glass of water that she expertly downed.

The rest of the students filed out after breakfast, leaving the seventh and fifth years to shake in our skins until we were rounded up to begin the written portion of the exam. Professor Flitwick had already given us in class the speech about the anti-cheating measures and time limits and all of those things that the fifth years needed but we did not. I knew that I had to take the written portion of my Herbology test in the morning, eat lunch, and go out for its practical exam in the afternoon. My quill scratched across the parchment furiously, words flying from my fingertips as I hurried to write down everything that was about to slip from my mind. This plant stuff was not what my mind was geared towards. I was meant to handle these things after they came out of the greenhouse. I was never meant to grow them.

I was thankful to leave the silence of the exam room so they could prepare it for lunch. Roger tugged on his hair mercilessly as we sat on the steps waiting for the Great Hall to reopen. "I couldn't remember the germination period of Silverweed. What was the germination period of Silverweed?"

"Please," I grumbled, massaging my temples. "I'm trying to remember every plant we've ever handled or talked about so I don't fail the practical. You're distracting me."

"You're no good," Roger grunted. "Bradley!" Our teammate stopped as he and Chambers, who had not taken Herbology, wandered by. "What's the germination period of Silverweed?"

"Rowena, did you miss that, too? I couldn't remember that or how to tell when a mandrake has gone dormant."

"Trick question, mate," Roger shook his head. "Mandrakes don't go dormant. They just take up knitting."

After lunch, the N.E.W.T. herbology students headed out as a small herd towards the greenhouses for our practical exam. Professor Sprout selected a few students and took them inside, leaving the rest of us to stand around in a panic as we awaited our fates. She finally ushered Bradley and me in and pointed us to open examiners. I cursed as soon as I saw the Snargaluff sitting in front of the hunched over wizard, attracting all eyes to me. With a sheepish smile and flushed cheeks, I bowed my head and shuffled over to face certain death: Safely extract the pod of a Snargaluff and replant it. In stump form, not a problem. As soon as you touch it, though, these four bramble-like vines leap out and try to defend the plant. A tricky task with three or four people. With one? I felt like crying. Instead, I picked up my pruning shears, cracked my neck, and launched an attack.

Attempts straight for the pod never worked, so I jabbed it with the shears and leapt back as the vines sprang out. With one hand, I reached for the long, sharp vines of the plant in hopes that I could catch them all and easily grab the pod with the other hand.

No such luck.

One of the vines swung away from the others and wrapped around my wrist. I grabbed two of the other three, and the last one went for my neck. I swung with the pruning shears, which were still closed, and smacked it away. It tried again, and we repeated the dance. I finally dropped the shears and muttered a quick, "_Immobulus_,", impressing my examiner with my wandless magic. Points!

However, I cast the freezing charm on one vine.

One.

The other three got very upset about that. The one around my wrist tightened immediately, digging a bramble sharply into my wrist. I yelped as it broke the skin, attracting attention my way again. Vines swung wildly at my face, and I was unable to back away with my wrist trapped.

"_Immobulus_!" I shrieked, squeezing my eyes shut and flailing my hand hopefully in the direction of the vines. "_Immobulus, immobulus, immobulus!_"

As I realized that I was no longer being attacked, I slowly opened my eyes and looked at what I had done. For starters, I had successfully frozen the attacking vines. I had also frozen the vine around my wrist as it was still attached.

I had also frozen my examiner.

"Oh. Oh! Oh, Merlin!" I gasped, waving my hand again so the poor man moved. "I am _so_ sorry. SO sorry! I cannot be more sorry. I am so so so so so _so_ sorry, sir! I was…I didn't..." My examiner said nothing and gave no facial expression to show what he thought. He just wrote something down and made my stomach drop. I carefully unwrapped the vine from my wrist and finished my task in horrified silence, mumbled my apologies yet again, and got out of there as fast as I could

This practice went on for days, with the pressure getting no less for the Ravenclaws. The other houses seemed to find relief after a test was done, thankful at the end of the first week to have Herbology, Charms, Transfiguration, Ancient Runes, and History of Magic behind them. They were thankful on off-days when they were not taking the test because they had not pursued a particular course at the N.E.W.T. level. They were even thankful to have the refreshing weather of the weekend to laugh and play outside. All any of us could think about at those times were the five test days yet to come – Arithmancy/Astronomy/Divination (possibly the worst testing day, which I was blessed not to be part of), Potions, DADA, and Care of Magical Creatures. It was _stressful_. There were no off-days for a Ravenclaw. There were only days to cram for the next test, reviewing a year's worth of knowledge in the course of a few hours. Yes, we had started studying weeks ago, but this was crunch time. This was the last chance to get it all right.

There was a brief change of pace the night after our Defense Against the Dark Arts exam. It was the night of the 5th years Astronomy examination, and the Ravenclaws came pouring back into our common room with a story that terrified me. After Roger roared at them to tell the story one-at-a-time (which they could not manage until he raised his voice), they told us what they had witnessed during the test. Umbridge had attacked Hagrid in the dead of night. In an attempt to help him, McGonagall had stepped in. For her troubles, she took four stunning spells straight to the chest.

It was a wonder she did not die.

I had never felt more helpless. There was absolutely nothing we could do about this atrocity. It was nearly impossible to focus on Magical Creatures after that, especially knowing my oafish teacher had been attacked as I was flipping the pages of his ridiculous textbook.

It was the most unfortunate bit of luck I had ever come across that my last test was Care of Magical Creatures. I cannot tell you how many nights I spent hoping and praying we would end on Potions or Charms. I was so good at Potions and Charms. Hell, with Harry's DA thing, I was even damn respectable in Defense Against the Dark Arts (not that I wasn't before, mind you!). After the Snargaluff pod, I turned vinegar back into wine and then made the bottle do a mid-air cartwheel (without my wand, KABAM!), transfigured a cat into a snail and then made it vanish, and translated an ancient spell and the counter that I then had to cast on myself to prove I had done it. That was only week one! If I could do all of that successfully (although, the examiner said my wine was a bit too dry for his taste), why should I be punished with Magical Creatures at the end? Couldn't I go out on a high note? Couldn't I end with Potions, where I identified an unknown poison, which took me all of three seconds and a good sniff, and brewed an antidote that required a lock of Roger's examiner's hair? COULDN'T I DO THAT?

No, of course not. I had to end my testing at Hogwarts by demonstrating that I could identify the Mackled Malaclaw hidden amongst the lobsters. Easy enough. Then, I had to get past a Kappa. Simple. I transfigured a leaf into a cucumber, tapped the new cucumber with my wand so my name was now inscribed on it, tossed it to the Kappa, and walked by completely unscathed. And then, I was face-to-face with an Erkling. And my mind went completely blank. Because, really, when face-to-face with an Erkling, theory and textbook paragraphs and class discussions vanish. All I could think about was the fact that I was looking at a man-eating monster with a gleam in its eye that looked suspiciously like hunger and was aimed particularly at me.

As I was staring at the creature completely dumbstruck, it shot a dart at me. Erklings do that, you see. They shoot darts and they cackle, and both of those things are scary as shit. I yelped as the dart jabbed into my forearm like an oversized thorn.

I was so going to fail.

"_A-aqu-_HEY!" I squeaked, dodging another dart. "Stop it!" The Erkling cackled at me. "These things aren't poisonous, are they?" I asked my examiner. "Wait, just kidding. I know that. Because I'm an O student. Don't…just forget I asked that. I knew that. I – STOP IT!"

The Erkling cackled again. "_Aqua Eructo!_" I yelled entirely too loudly, thrusting my wand out so I shot a jet of water at the poor creature that sent it flying backwards, rolling ass-over-end until it came to halt face down in the grass. "Is that everything?" My examiner nodded. "Good." I yanked the dart out of my arm with a wince and looked away from the bloody sleeve of my robe so as not to see the damage my horrible examination had caused.

"Perhaps you should consider going to the hospital wing," he suggested to my back as I stalked away. Excellent idea, sir. Good thing you were around to suggest that I take care of the bleeding hole in my arm. What would I do without you?

I did not go to the hospital wing, though. My pride was entirely too battered to do that. Instead, I wandered the halls with my bloody robes, muttering to myself about all the ways to outsmart an Erkling, all the things in the textbooks that did not involve _sending it flying with a violent stream of water_! They were all so clear to me now that I would never need them again.

Cho's and Marietta's voices drifted down the hall to me, and I groaned. I did not want to run in to any friends at the moment. At the first empty classroom I saw, I ducked inside and curled up in the far corner. From my bag, I produced _The Golden Cauldron_ and flipped to the last chapter; reading time was so much more available with the twins gone. As people walked by the room and glanced inside, I cast a hasty shadow spell to shade myself from view just a bit. I could use some privacy, if being a dark blob in the corner of a well-lit room was at all private. I was a page or two into the chapter when Hogwarts reminded me that I could never finish a book in one school year. Never.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione burst into the room, apparently thinking it was empty.

"Voldemort's got Sirius."

* * *

><p><strong>As always, thank you for the wonderful reviews and for reading! This is a little shorter because if I left it with the next post, it would be ridiculously long. Sorry about the length, but I figured since the last few were very very long, they balanced? Maybe?<strong>

_**Next Chapter:**_** Amateur Dramatics**


	34. Amateur Dramatics

"Voldemort's got Sirius."

Harry Potter yanked the door shut behind him, exactly the sort of thing I should have done, and I shrank into the corner in hopes that he, Ron, and Hermione would not see me. Then, I remembered the shadow spell I'd cast. Of course they would not see me. I was a dark blob in the corner of a well-lit room, just as I had wanted. Curse me.

"There's a room in the Department of Mysteries full of shelves covered in these little glass balls, and they're at the end of row ninety-seven…" I winced as details came out of Harry's mouth. I did not want to hear this. Would it have been so hard to go somewhere else? "…Says he'll end by killing him…" Harry was shaking now, as was I, and he sat down on a desk probably to hide that fact. Should have just cloaked himself in shadows. Worked for me. "How're we going to get there?"

Well, that was ridiculous. Why would you _go there_?My brow furrowed as I thought about this situation as logically as the Golden bloody Trio should have. How would the two most wanted wizards in the world get in to the Ministry of Magic without anybody noticing? Apparate? Unlikely. Could you even apparate into the Ministry building? I didn't think so. Even so, why attempt in the middle of the day? Why not wait until the dead of night? Unless they _had_. Maybe they had been there all night. No, that was also unlikely. Vol…You-Know-Who did not keep people alive that long. Sirius would be dead already. He could not possibly be that useful.

_"Stop_," I ordered myself silently. This speculation did no good. What was I going to do? Help them? How was I supposed to do that? I was only a bleeding shadow in the corner.

_"Please Leave_," I thought desperately. "_Please leave, stop talking, say it's all a joke, something!_"

Hermione Granger was the brightest witch of our age but could not see through a basic shadow charm. Really? Could they not see they were not alone, that something in the room was wrong? I did not want to hear these things. I was going to join the Order after school, sure, but not now. I was not ready to go on a rescue mission, not ready to face You-Know-Who, not ready, not ready, not ready. I was just bested by an Erkling, blast it! Sure, I could do this if You-Know-Who had a heard of Kappas or desperately wanted some wine but only had vinegar. Somehow, I doubted that was all the skill required to win this war.

"Harry, er…how…how did Voldemort get into the Ministry of Magic without anybody realizing he was there?" Hermione asked carefully. A genius thought. Wish I had it. Oh, wait. How had this boy been so heroic in the past few years when _I_ managed to be three minutes ahead of the brightest witch he associated with? Honestly.

It was ridiculous that I was so frightened by this. I would have to face all of these things eventually. I wanted to fight on the front lines of the upcoming war. It was cowardly to hide now.

Harry's yelling interrupted my thoughts. "Anyway, the Department of Mysteries has always been completely empty whenever I've been –"

"You've never been there, Harry. You've dreamed about the place, that's all." Hermione was a quiet counter to her unhinged friend. I gulped. Dreamed? Was he still having those dreams? Like with Ron's dad?

That was not safe. That was bad, so very very bad. That was a vision straight from Volde…You-Know-Who. Things like that went two ways, not one. If Harry could see into You-Know-Who's mind, You-Know-Who could see into his. He could see this happening right now. This could all be part of his plan. This could all be a trick. Maybe he only kidnapped Sirius to lure Harry there. Harry did seem to have a thing for saving people, and his godfather would be impossible to ignore.

"I'm trying to say – Voldemort knows you, Harry! He took Ginny down into the Chamber of Secrets to lure you there, it's the kind of thing he does, he knows you're the – the sort of person who'd go to Sirius's aid! What if he's just trying to get you into the Department of Myst-?" Hermione pleaded with logic similar to my own. Again.

But, dammit, I _am_ a coward! The Sorting Hat never even considered Gryffindor all those years ago. I envision monsters in the darkness, attackers in storms, and death around every corner. I used to cry at the Easter Bunny! I still get somewhat shaken after handling boiling water – makes starting a cup of tea a harrowing adventure.

"Hermione, it doesn't matter if he's done it to get me there or not –there isn't anyone left from the Order at Hogwarts who we can tell-" What had happened to Professor Snape? I had just spoken to him the other day to get permission for a restricted book. Was he gone now, too? "-and if we don't go, Sirius is dead!"

A coward did not set her heart on joining the Order. A coward did not defy Umbridge. Cedric Diggory's best friend was not a coward. George Weasleyis not in love with a coward. A coward did not fly into the path of a bludger. I was frightened and easily panicked, but I overcome. I was not a coward.

I was, however, easily startled, and Harry's sudden yelling at that moment made me jump. Ron's head snapped in my direction, but his eyes scanned the wall above me and flicked towards the window, writing off my flinching as a bug or bird or flung textbook. Despite my epiphany, I thought it best not to reveal myself in the middle of Harry's tantrum, so I was thankful for Ron's characteristic inobservance.

At that moment, the door creaked open, and Ginny and Luna peaked their heads in, curiosity peaked by Harry's yelling. While Ginny focused on her distressed dearly beloved (a nickname I was not permitted to use within her earshot), Luna looked right at me with her wide, spacy eyes. I could not tell if she realized something was wrong or if she was scanning the room. Harry brushed Ginny off brusquely, which was not the most brilliant thing to do. As the youngest child with six older brothers, Ginny was a tough girl. That attitude did not sit well with her or Luna.

"You're being rather rude, you know." Luna muttered, eyes back on me. I sat perfectly still in hopes that she would not notice me through the shadow if I did not move. It was only a shadow, not an impenetrable wall of darkness; it was easy enough to see through to the keen observer. I could never tell if Luna was keen or not.

Hermione, however, perked up suddenly. I winced, hoping beyond hope that she was not about to volunteer Ginny for anything dangerous. Hermione took on an expression I knew too well from the faces of my common room, and I swore silently to every witch and wizard that had ever aided anyone's magical career; Merlin, Rowena, Godric, Salazar, Helga, and even Dumbledore for good measure. She was formulating a plan, the seeds of an idea springing to life in her mind. "We'll have to use Umbridge's fire and see if we can contact him. We'll draw Umbridge away again, but we'll need lookouts and that's where we can use Ginny and Luna."

"What will Mel do?" Luna asked airily. The room fell silent, giving my curse an entire classroom to bounce around in. "Oh, did you not see her?"

"No, Luna," I grumbled, waving away the wispy remnants of my shadow, "they did _not_ see me." I gave a sheepish wave to a stunned Hermione and Ron and an ever-so-cheerful Harry. "Hi."

"H-how long have you been there?" Ron stammered, pointing to my corner.

"Never mind that. What happened to your arm?" Ginny gasped. I finally looked at my sleeve and felt my stomach lurch at the fist-sized splotch of blood the Erkling dart had caused.

"Bad exam," I mumbled as I stood up and brushed myself off.

"Oh, I heard about that," Ginny's eyes widened. "Don't take it too hard. Freezing your examiner isn't the end of the world."

My jaw dropped at the mention of my herbology practical. "I didn't…that was…that was last week! This was…" I glanced at my arm, realizing how poor my overall N.E.W.T performance really was. "How did you find out about that? NO," I flung my hands out to silence her, "don't answer that. Just…I didn't freeze my examiner."

"This time," Luna mumbled. I swallowed the hex forming on my tongue, and Luna should have been very thankful that I had yet to learn how to perform offensive spells wordlessly.

"Ron, I've been here a lot longer than you three have. I'll have you know that you shouldn't go on any rescue missions if you don't check empty rooms for mysterious shadows first. You just failed Break-In 101. Bam. I killed you all five minutes ago. With a bloody arm. While reading." I waved my book in Harry's face, and he batted it away agitatedly. "My advice? Listen to her." I pointed to Hermione. "She's the only one of you with a brain at the moment. I would have killed her first."

"That's…disturbing, Mel," Ginny wrinkled her nose at me. Ron rolled his eyes and scratched his hair quickly.

"She's like that. Look, mate," he turned to Harry. "What if there was a way to do this quickly, yeah? Instead of just running off." He looked to Hermione for support, but the female Gryffindor was still studying me curiously. After a sharp elbow from Ginny, however, she jumped right back into the conversation.

"Quickly. Right. One of us has to go and find Umbridge and – and send her off in the wrong direction, keep her away from her office." Hermione began, glancing back at me just often enough to make me feel uncomfortable. As Ron volunteered to tell her that Peeves was destroying the beloved Transfiguration department, I hoisted myself up to sit on a desktop, hugging my arms around my stomach in an attempt to cover the discolored patch on my robes.

"Shame Fred and George's things were gathered up; I probably could have set off some Garroting Gas to keep her away from her office, keep Slytherin's from getting to her," I mused. Ginny gaped at me, the notion of actually letting loose a prank apparently never occurring to her. Probably good, considering Harry and Hermione would be stuck in the middle of it.

"Luna and I could stand at the end of the hall and tell people someone _did_ set some off, though," she exclaimed suddenly, pointing at me sharply. When inspiration struck a Weasley, they seemed biologically programmed to motion towards me as if I was a misbehaving child.

"The Inquisitorial Squad does rounds near her office now because of Lee's nifflers. I have a serious-looking injury. First Slytherin I see, game on," I supplied. "I'll cause quite a fuss, make a big scene."

Hermione nodded at my plan. "Right, well, even if we do all of that, I don't think we're going to be able to bank on more than five minutes. Harry, go get your Invisibility Cloak and we'll meet you at the end of Umbridge's corridor, okay?" Harry was gone as soon as the last words were out of her mouth. "Mel, are you sure your arm is all right?"

"I'm about 80% sure these things aren't poisonous," I shrugged. "My fingertips feel kind of numb, though." Probably just from being balled up in a corner.

"Here," Hermione reached for my arm, "let me heal that before we go."

"Don't touch my arm!" I yelped, wrenching myself free of her grasp. My outburst shocked them all, and they watched me with wide, terrified eyes. "Sorry. I'm…m'sorry. I don't like healing with wands. It's…it's a thing. If you can do it wandless, go for it. Otherwise, just let it be." The only time in recent history I had allowed a wand to heal me was when George did it after the DA fiasco. That was a special circumstance. That was George. No one else got to do that, not even Madam Pomfrey.

Hermione looked around the room, but Ginny, Luna, and Ron all shook their heads in turn. "Mel, I really need to heal that."

"I told you that it's fine," I shook my head. "If it gets bad, I'll patch it up myself. Don't worry about me. Worry about Harry. And maybe worry about the fact that we have two minutes to get across the school before he takes off for the Ministry without us."

That seemed to divert her attention; her eyes flew wide open, and Hermione Granger whirled on her heel to also take off out of the room without waiting for anyone to follow. Ron heaved a sigh and dutifully shuffled off behind her, and Ginny and Luna quickly followed. With one last look around the room, I briefly considered not going. But, the nagging voice of George Weasley (or maybe Fred – I couldn't tell by voice alone) would not let me leave the youngest Weasleys like that.

I followed half a hall behind the group right until the end of Umbridge's corridor, where we huddled together to wait for Harry. Ginny tossed her hair over her shoulder as she quickly scanned for any Slytherins, but the few passerbys were innocent enough. "Right," she hissed. "So, Luna thought that if we can't convince someone to not go through the hall, we need to do something really loud so Harry knows to get out. The only thing we could think of was Weasley is Our King."

"I will not sing that!" I immediately protested. Four heads all snapped towards me as if this was the most perplexing puzzle, but realization dawned one by one, from Ginny to Hermione to Luna to Ron. "I will _not_."

"Well, sing the…" Ginny started, but I shot her look. I would not sing. Anything. At all. I was now forever going to be offended by the mere idea of singing. "Oh, honestly, Mel!" she huffed.

"Look," Hermione interjected sharply, "when you find someone, the first thing they'll do is pull out their wand to heal your arm. Just have a panic, and be loud about it. That will tell Ginny and Luna that you've got someone and can't stop anyone else. When you get them somewhere out of the way, just…I don't know. Tell them you can find the hospital wing yourself or something. Just make sure they're far away."

"I could just hex them," I mused. Hermione's eyes widened in horror. "Oh, don't act so innocent, Miss Illegal Polyjuice." She clamped her mouth shut, but continued to eye me warily right up until Harry appeared. Hermione filled him in on our hasty plan, and then we launched to action. Ginny and Luna immediately began emptying the hall, Ron trotted off to find Umbridge, Harry and Hermione threw on the Invisibility Cloak, and I went in search of a Slytherin.

My search did not take very long. Two turns of the corridor, and I nearly smacked headfirst into Draco Malfoy. The younger boy first jumped back in shock, then narrowed his eyes at me.

"What are _you_ doing here?" he sneered. Excellent question. Had I encountered him half a hallway later, I might have had an answer.

So, I played my to my strength which, in this case, was a terrible lack of forethought. I let out a whimpery sigh, contorted my face in what I hoped look pathetically close to the verge of tears, glanced at my arm (which I let hang slightly limp), and looked back at him. I opened my mouth to talk, coughed instead, gulped heavily, and tried again.

"I was…I think it…are…_Idon'tevenknowifthey'repoisonous!_" I rushed out. Draco's eyes widened as I faked a knee buckle, but I had to catch myself because he apparently had no gentlemanly instincts whatsoever and made no motion to break my fall. I threw my hand out and grabbed the wall enough to steady myself from the staged fall. "I just…I dunno. M'fine."

Draco let out an impatient sigh and pulled out his wand. "You're not," he grumbled. "Here." He pointed his wand towards my arm, but I flinched away. The move threw me off balance, and I staggered a good three or four steps away from him.

"Don't touch me," I insisted.

"Oh, now, really, Harper" he rolled his eyes. "I won't _freeze_ you."

_How did everyone know about that?_ "I said _DON'T TOUCH ME_!" I shrieked as he tried for my arm again. This time, I swiped at him with my other hand, and Draco dodged the swat smoothly.

"Salazar," he grumbled, pocketing his wand in his robes. "Fine. You don't…" his eyes narrowed suddenly. "This is from your practical, isn't it?" Then, a wicked smirk grew on his face. "I heard the thing shot at you five times."

"It…" I scolded myself for wanting to protest. So, instead I whined. "Shut uuu-uup!"

"Look," he cocked his head at me, still grinning. "Hilarious as it would be to let you pass out in the hall-"

A faint _crack_ sounded behind us, causing Draco and I both to stop. We shared a look, instantly drawing our wands as voices raised in protest and the scuffle of feet grew to quite a clamor. Malfoy swept in front of me, throwing an arm back to keep me behind him when I tried to push my way past him. Perhaps the boy _did_ have some hint of a gentleman in him.

He grabbed my good arm as I managed to take the lead, and I instinctively whirled around, fist drawn back to punch. Unlike when Fred took the wick out of him, Malfoy was ready for this one, and he caught my fist expertly. Silver eyes widened incredulously as he took in the wrinkled, bloody fabric of the arm that just tried to break his nose (purely out of instinct, I swear – no one should grab me unexpectedly). Then, suddenly, the wand that had somehow been working with me turned against me.

"I thought your arm was hurt."

"It is."

This was bad. I heard Neville Longbottom's distant protests, but this battle was much more immediate. Wait. I snapped my head down the hall. Neville? The flash of Draco's moving wand in my peripheral vision made me focus on the immediate threat, and I finally thought to point my wand at the Slytherin.

"You're lying."

"Am not."

"I don't like liars," he sneered.

"Must have trouble looking in the mirror." I wasn't exactly sure what that meant, but it seemed to strike a note in Draco, because the _Expelliarmus_ was out of his mouth before I could even think to send a spell in his direction. Damn. My wand clattered to the ground, but I stuck my hand out quickly, and the wand flew right back into it. Unfortunately, Draco poked his wand into my chest just as my fingers wrapped around the familiar 11 inches of smooth white birch.

"We'll just be going to see the headmistress, I think," Draco smirked. He cocked his head down the hall and waited out my stubborn, fiery stare. I was stuck, though, even with my wand back in my hand. He had won. I took a slow, even step away from his wand, turned, and marched down the hall with Malfoy trotting behind me smugly. Bastard.

As we made the long walk to Umbridge's office, which must have been what it felt like to walk to your cell in Azkaban for the first time, the devil herself whipped around the far corner. She saw Malfoy before she saw me, somehow, but her eyes landed on my bloody sleeve, then my face.

"Caught this one trying to…" Malfoy stopped and looked at me because he was not at all sure what exactly I was trying to do. Point to me.

"Help the Weasley boy. Help _Potter_. I know," she nodded, smoothing out her skirt before using her wand to slam open the doors to her office. I winced involuntarily as Hermione yelped when Millicent Bulstrode pinned her against the wall, and Malfoy grabbed my arm right around the puncture wound to drag me in with him. I yelped, too, as Umbridge yanked Harry's head out of the fireplace.

* * *

><p><strong>I'm so sorry this took forever to get up. I try to post once a week, and it's been, what, two or something? School is so busy right now. This is a bit longer, though, so hopefully that makes up for it a bit! The next one should be up a bit more on-schedule. I've got a pretty clear idea of every chapter until the end of this story-it's just a matter of getting it all down on paper. Thank you all so much for your patience, for reading, and for writing such <strong>_**wonderful**_** reviews!**

_**Next Chapter**_**- Caught in the Act**


	35. Caught in the Act

It was not long before our entire crew of experts was in the office, all of us guarded by a smug Slytherin. Even Neville had gotten himself caught up in it, just as I had though earlier. I yanked my arm out of Malfoy's grip and massaged the injury, so Malfoy snatched my wand from between my fingers. He grabbed Harry's, too, when Umbridge cast it aside. He pocketed both wands when Umbridge ordered him to go get Professor Snape. I glared at Harry; Snape _was_ still at Hogwarts. Why hadn't we told him about Sirius? Why were we even involved? This was the last time I assumed that boy knew something I didn't!

Ron's lip was bleeding as he continued to struggle against his Slytherin captor. The girl holding Ginny was easily twice the Gryffindor's size. Hermione couldn't even move away from the wall, poor Neville looked absolutely petrified, and Luna seemed to have gone into a haze from the stress. Or maybe that was just Luna. Even though I no longer had a specific jailor, there was absolutely no way I could just leave.

Well, this had gone well.

For a reason I could not fully explain, my heart sank when Professor Snape came in the room. Here was the man I spent years antagonizing, dancing just on the border between being an annoyance and a menace in his life, witnessing my official leap over the edge into the criminal lifestyle. I should not have worried, though; his attention seemed captivated by Harry Potter, eyes only once frowning at me in the quickest flash of confusion. He had too much else to focus on, though, as Umbridge demanded Veritaserum. Snape's eyes flicked back to me, completely emotionless, and I realized that I had nothing to worry about. There was the false brew. We would be fine.

"You took my last bottle to interrogate Potter."

Had he already used it? My eyebrows furrowed as I considered this, and I reached for my head to massage out the pulsing just beginning behind my eyes. Malfoy noticed the motion, though, and pointed his wand at me childishly. As if I could do anything with just my hands.

Oh. Right. I guess I could. But not really. Not with all these people. I was outnumbered; none of my allies had wands.

Umbridge, meanwhile, had completely lost her mind over this recent hitch in her plan. It would have been amusing in another circumstance, but I found it difficult to muster up a chuckle at that particular time. "You are on probation!" she shrieked at Snape, as if it was his fault that she had drained an entire supply of a long-brewing potion. She ordered him out of the office, and I watched our last chance at warning the Order make his exiting bow.

"He's got Padfoot!" Harry shouted. I winced, but no one noticed as all eyes turned to the boy who lived. "He's got Padfoot at the place where it's hidden."

If Snape understood, he could not act like it. Umbridge turned to him sharply, as if he held the secrets of the world and must share them, but Snape coldly snapped that he was tired of this nonsensical babbling and left. With him went any hope that Harry would be calm about things. While I had no doubt that Snape's first move would be to warn the Order, my Ravenclaw mind was already putting the pieces together despite Umbridge's distracting mutters. Harry knew Snape was at school but chose not to tell him, maybe even forgot he was part of the Order. At some level, maybe even subconsciously, Harry Potter did not trust Severus Snape. Maybe it was the Death Eater past or the poor hygiene or the hard time he gave Potter in class, but there was definitely a reason. And that reason meant that Harry would not trust him now to do this. He would still take matters in to his own hands.

"The Cruciatus Curse out to loosen your tongue."

My body went on full alert. Absolutely not. Hermione let out a shout of protest that turned into a cry that turned into a demand as Umbridge seemed not to hear her. The Slytherins looked around at each other. _Should we be excited? Is she serious? Should we help? Is this wrong?_ I raised my hand back to my head, Draco's attention otherwise distracted, as Umbridge explained how she sent the dementors after Harry over the summer. It was an odd plan, one that only a Hufflepuff would come up with, and I would have laughed at it any other day. Any other day. I was just too ready for a fight.

"_Cruc-_"

"NO!" Hermione squeaked. "We have to tell her, Harry!" Tell her? I snapped to look at Hermione, magic still pulsing through my head and making the throb in my temple that much worse. I had been half a second behind her, ready to hex the headmistress. Not disarm her. Hex her. I was not good with the _Expelliarmus_, but DA had taught me that I was extremely smart with the Tickling charm. Maybe it was a good thing that Hermione beat me. Hermione knew what she was doing. She was a Gryffindor at heart but a Ravenclaw in mind. Despite the horror on everyone else's faces, I knew she had a plan. Something to get us out of this.

And, by Rowena, she did. She started going on about Dumbledore and a weapon and about how only Umbridge could see it. Whatever she was going on about, Umbridge bought. The woman ordered Harry and Hermione to show her this weapon that could supposedly "sort her out", leaving us alone with the Slytherins. I hated Slytherins.

Without Umbridge, they seemed at a bit of loss for what to do. All of a sudden, Ron's capture whirled around and whalloped him in the mouth. Ginny yelped, Luna's hands flew over her mouth, and Neville whimpered. I began scanning the room for their wands as the Slytherin's laughed. He made to hit Ron again, but Neville shouted out a protest that earned him a lump above the eye.

I caught sight out the window of Harry, Hermione, and Umbridge going into the woods in my search for wands, which made me pause for half a second. What were they doing? Immediately, my brain decided they were going to attack and/or kill her in the woods, and I had to quickly remind myself that we were the good guys. Good guys don't do that. Ginny let out a yelp as Ron ducked a fresh blow, and the stunning spell flew out of my hand before I could really think about it. At first, I was not sure who I hit with it because every Slytherin froze at this turn of events.

Then, all eyes turned to me.

Oops.

I squeaked pathetically as five wands drew on me. Quickly, I flung my hand out and snapped, "_Accio_," for my wand, and a chorus of voices followed. As my companions once again armed themselves, spells started flying. Stunners, disarming charms, and a well-timed bat-bogey hex later, we were victorious.

"Let me fix your lip," I ordered, but Ron shrugged me off. As an afterthought, his eyes widened in panic, he threw his arms out in front of him, and he leapt back.

"Don't touch me!" he yelped in a falsetto. I narrowed my eyes as he cracked a smile, which made a fresh trickle of blood ooze out of his lip. "Sorry, Mel. Had to."

"Remember that when I destroy you," I muttered.

"Guys!" Ginny snapped, bouncing on the balls of her feet in the doorway. "Harry!" And she was gone. Ron rolled his eyes and took off after her, using the sleeve of his robes to wipe the blood off of his chin as he chased after his sister. Neville and Luna followed quickly, and I groaned as I, too, went after them. Curse them. Curse them all.

"Wait!" I called after them, sounding not-at-all wimpy. "Did someone get Harry's wand? Someone? Can you even _hear me_? _RON!_" Nothing. Miscreants. I hesitated, debating whether or not I should go back for Harry's and Hermione's wands, but the 5th years were getting smaller and smaller in front of me. When Luna disappeared outside, I gave up. Harry and Hermione could go back if they needed. I had to catch up, or I would lose everybody on the grounds.

I was just catching up to the group as Harry confirmed our worst fears. "I'm sure Sirius is still alive, but I can't see how we're going to get there to help him."

Somehow, I knew that suggesting we _not_ go help him would be poorly received. I swallowed the notion and instead shifted that logical mind of mine towards the problem at hand. How were we going to get to London?

"Well, we'll have to fly, won't we?" Luna said simply. I had never heard her speak simply before. It was startling, almost as startling as the brilliant simplicity of her plan.

The trump card of all startling events, though, was how quickly Harry shut her down. "Okay, first of all, 'we' aren't doing anything if you're including yourself in that, and second of all, Ron's the only one with a broomstick that isn't being guarded by a security troll, so –"

Excuse me?

"I've got a broom!" Ginny protested.

"Yeah, but you're not coming," Ron snapped over his shoulder. It was meant to end the discussion, and he turned back to Harry and Hermione, hands on his hips, brow furrowed, as he went back to solving their "problem". I agreed with the sentiment that Ginny should stay behind, but I also knew that there was no way they could keep her behind. If they managed to leave without her, she would never speak to them again; this moment could very will split the Weasley family forever.

"_I_'ve got a broom," I pointed out sharply.

Ron looked at me with huge eyes. "Are you coming?" Hermione snapped her head to me, too, eyes flicking first to my wounded arm and then to my face. They were shocked, amazed, bewildered even, by the notion that I might want to go. I mean, I did _not_ want to go, but I hardly saw a better option. If I stayed behind, George would kill me.

"I'm three years older than you were when you fought for the Sorcerer's Stone, and it's because of me Malfoy's got giant flying bogeys attacking him – " Ginny protested.

"We were all in the D.A. together," Neville added softly. "It was all supposed to be about fighting You-Know Who. This is the first chance we've had to do something real – or was that all just a game or something."

"No – of course it wasn't," Harry grumbled. He was irritated; this was not going to get him to London. Three people or thirty, he still had to _get_ there before any of it mattered.

He and Ron shared a look, and I knew exactly what they were thinking. Of all the DA members to come with them, why did it have to be Luna, Ginny, and Neville? Why not Fred, George, Angie, or even Seamus? I knew they had already forgotten about me.

"There are other ways of flying than with broomsticks," Luna pointed out, back to her dreamy, wafty voice. And I thought she might be somewhat sane for this. Wrong-o.

"I s'pose we're going to ride on the back of the Kacky Snorgle or whatever?" Ron snapped. The boy was frustrated, upset that his sister was involved and the argument over it had slowed down the rescue. He was used to running headfirst into problems with Harry and Hermione, not having a whole team. It was supposed to just be the three of them, wasn't it?

He could suck it up.

"The Crumple-Horned Snorkack can't fly, but _they _can, and Hagrid says they're very good at finding places their riders are looking for." She pointed to something, and all of us followed her finger.

But, there was nothing there. Harry, however, immediately brightened at the trees. "Yes!"

Oh, shit. It was those horse things, wasn't it? What were they called? Kestrals? Thestrals? _Dammit, Mel, this is why you got shot with a dart in your exam!_

As I beat myself yet again for being horrid at Care of Magical Creatures, the group began a fresh round of arguing over how many people were going to the Ministry. Three, four, six, seven, three again. Finally, Harry grabbed his forehead agitatedly and announced, "Fine, it's your choice. But, unless we can find more thestrals, you're not going to be able –"

"More will come," Ginny nodded, and I confirmed that.

"You, Hermione, and I are all pretty…bloody. They're attracted by that; Hagrid lures them with raw meat, doesn't he?" A few heads nodded. "They're death-bound creatures. There'll be plenty." See? See, I _was _good at Magical Creatures. I was. Really.

"Look!" Luna grinned. "Here come more now!"

"All right," Harry grumped, "pick one and get on, then." He hopped on what I assumed was a thestral, but I could not really tell. He was on swiftly, followed by Neville and Luna.

Luna, realizing the flaw in the plan, slid down to help Hermione and Ginny onto animals they could not see. She took Ron's arm, much to his dismay, but he stopped after three steps.

"What about you?" Ron turned to me, and I froze. The rest of the group, perhaps sensing one of their leaders lagging behind, also turned to stare at me expectantly. Harry even bounced in his seat a bit, clearly distressed by the delay.

What about me? What was I going to do? Was I, Melbecka Harper, the Ravenclaw most likely to be startled by her own shadow, about to go gallivanting across the country to take on the forces of You-Know-Who?

Lord Voldemort. To take on the forces of Lord Voldemort. Fred and George kept telling me to say the name; I wanted to fight the beast, I could say his name.

Well, sure, I wanted to fight. Did that fight start today? Was I ready for that fight right now? I was barely ready to graduate!

I let out a whimper as Ginny leaned towards me from her mount. Ron widened his eyes and lowered his head to meet my gaze, trying to silently coax an answer. George and Fred would absolutely kill me if I let those two go off on their own. Sure, they had Harry and Hermione and all that to look after them, and they were perfectly capable of taking care of themselves…well, Ginny was…well…

"Damn it," I said out loud, hopping once in an outburst of nervous energy. "Yeah. Yes, I'm coming."

"Hop her on with me," Ron told Luna.

"I'm a big girl, Ron," I rolled my eyes. "I can ride by…" I watched how high up Ron had to climb for his mount. "Yeah, tha-that's a good idea. I'll ride with Ron. Don't want him to get scared." The youngest Weasley boy grinned as Luna led me to the creature and helped me on. I just tightened my arms around his waist when the thestral kicked off from the ground, and Ron screamed. Ron did. It was not me. I swear. It was Ron. Promise.

The thestral sliced through the air quicker than any broom I had ever been on, but the ride was not nearly as smooth. I could feel every flap of its wings as we rose and fell in a steady rhythm through the air.

"This is bizarre!" Ron yelled back to me. I would have sworn at him, but I was too busy burying my face in his back so I was forced to keep my eyes closed. Otherwise, I would see that there was nothing underneath us (even though my legs told me otherwise), and I would probably vomit. Scratch that. I would _definitely_ vomit.

We touched the ground not a second too soon, and I was off the thestral quicker than Snape from a shower (that was rude – forget I said it). "Never again," Ron muttered weakly as he slid off the creature and promptly hit the ground. I helped pull him to his feet, and we took off after Harry, who was already running on the mission he clearly wanted no help for. This saving people thing he did? I was beginning to realize that it was pretty much the Harry Potter show.

Obediently, we crammed into the phone box, and Harry rattled off our names so we could enter the Ministry. The Atrium was deathly silent, only the trickle of fountain water breaking the eerie quiet. I took in the candlight dimness of the Ministry at night in awe; it was beautiful how the flickering light reflected off of the golden fountain. Harry, however, had no time to appreciate art and once again took off running.

"Does he always do this?" I mumbled to Ron.

"Yeah," Ron confirmed. "Could be worse, though."

This was our routine – follow Harry, grunt a bit in argument or complaint, and follow him some more – through a room with brains in a tank and the room with revolving doors and a room with an ancient stone archway covered with a tattered black veil. It was in this room that a chill swept through my body as if someone had thrown ice water over me. _Evil. Dark magic. Stay away. Danger. Wrong. Go back. Leave_.

I should have told them.

We left that room and finally opened the door that Harry saw in his dream. The room had two shelves running its length, all filled with small glass orbs. The dust in the room nearly made me sneeze, but I thrust a finger under my nose to fight the urge. Something about the dim, eerie light of the room made me want to stay very quiet. Very _very _quiet. That, and the Feeling from the other room. Even considering that I expected a confrontation with Voldemort, I did not feel right for that moment. Things should be different. Shouldn't we hear them? Why was there no light from their presence, no voices, no echoing footsteps, hushed whispers, cries of pain? This was wrong. Very wrong.

With Hermione in the front of the group, I felt things were secure enough up there for me to take up the rear. Wand drawn, I walked backwards, peering into the darkness. I did not like this. I did not like it at all. Voldemort was not here. That felt clear to me despite the rest of the group's seeming ignorance towards that fact. But we were not alone. I could feel eyes on me. Eyes all around.

Paranoia was big in my family. I could tell when something was _off_. I knew the difference between irrational fears and legitimate sensations. This was definitely the latter.

As I scanned the area for any sign of the trap I Felt we had rushed right into, something caught my eye. The orbs were named. _Peony Liola. Elijah Jackson. Olive McGoon. _

_ Melbecka Gamp_.

"What?" I gaped, the words barely more than a breath. The light from my wand turned towards the orb, and my feet stopped following the group. What was this?

Why the hell was my name on an orb in the Department of Mysteries?

How did they know my name?

* * *

><p><strong>This post…meh. I wasn't too happy with it, but I just couldn't make it work for me. I write much better when Mel's path diverges from Rowling's, you know? Speaking of, the actual action in the Department of Mysteries is NOT going to be purely book-canon (in all important areas, yes, but the minor stuff, no). I would much rather be confident in what I write than be 100% faithful to the book (did I just say that? REALLY?) So, next chapter will be much better. Promise. Some of this dialogue does come from OOtP. <strong>

_**Next Chapter**_**: Department of Mysteries**


	36. Department of Mysteries

"_I think I love Cho."_

_ "Took you long enough," I rolled my eyes, downing the rest of my butterbeer._

_ "Is that ridiculous? I think it is," Cedric plowed on as if I never spoke. He slid his drink back and forth between his hands, intent on the tabletop of our current roost in the Three Broomsticks. "It is so strange that it's her."_

_ "Is it?" I frowned. He got like this all the time. Lost in his own ridiculous thoughts._

_ "Of course it is, Harpie."_

_ "Harper," I snapped. "I know Cho is a bit more ethnic than your previous conquests-"_

_ "Absolutely nothing about that sentence should ever have been uttered, Mel." His tone was scolding, but his lips curled up into a smile and his eyes flickered with mirth as he cast me what he hoped was a reproachful look. _

_ I rolled my eyes. "Fine. I know Cho isn't your _usual type_, but I hardly see what is so daft about you falling in love with her. Please, enlighten the clueless Ravenclaw, oh wise and powerful Hufflepuff." _

_ "Do me a favor first." I nodded. "Grab your arse, and pull your head out of it." I gestured crudely, and then quickly scanned for the stray teacher that may have seen it. Coast clear, I turned back to my companion, who found great glee in my fear. Once he calmed down, he admitted, "I always thought it would be you. I think everyone expected it to be you."_

_ I grinned, thinking back on the dirty looks sent my way in the halls by girls twice as pretty as me. "Everyone knows you're mad about me, Ceddy."_

_ "My heart sings a thousand songs a day, all meant for you," he agreed dryly, finally deciding to drink some of the butterbeer he'd been playing with for so long. "Did you see their faces at the ball when I showed up with Cho and you with George?"_

_ "Thought some of their eyeballs were gonna fall right out," I laughed._

_ "We've shocked them all, even the professors," he chuckled. "They like to act as if they ignore us, but they are so aware of everything we do." He shook his head at the thought of teachers keeping up on teenage gossip. "On paper, this shouldn't work. It should be you and me, Cedric Diggory and Melbecka Harper, madly in love and ruling the school."_

_ "Don't be stupid, Ceddy. We _do _rule the school. But, if you ever fall in love with me, I'll beat the brains right out of you."_

_ "Noted," he nodded, taking another drink. "Harpie?" _

_ "I'll destroy you."_

_ He grinned. "I am so glad that we never do what people expect of us."_

Something shattered on the ground between my head and my hand. Shards of silvery glass flew through the air upon impact, one slicing me right above the eye.

"HARPER!" I yelped, flinching back into consciousness.

_ The stars speak of the girl with two names, born as the moon dies in the month when the chill begins…_

Hundreds of bodiless voices seemed to emanate from the shattered glass spread across the floor all around me. The orb that just fell, probably after teetering for so long on the edge of its shelf, seemed to speak the loudest, but I tried to push the away the urge to place the deep male voice as I felt around for my wand. Where…where…where was it?

_ She will Know death when it comes. She will recognize its face, understand its purpose, and accept its reasons. _

I rolled into a sitting position suddenly, and my head throbbed in protest. My hand flew to the fresh wound, but it found more than the one cut. There were more, at least three that I could feel with my fingers. I wracked my brain for a spell, any spell, that would heal them, but I couldn't. I was blocked. My head felt fuzzy and heavy, still thick with the cloud of unconsciousness.

_ None have come before with this Knowledge, and none shall come after. She will be the only one to ever Know the secrets kept from mortals. _

"My name is Harper," I mumbled, gently probing the cuts to see how deep they were.

_And she will face death as bravely as she faces life._

Deciding I would live, I attempted to push myself to my feet. My head throbbed again, ordering me back down, but I fought through it as the orb that woke me finished. I grabbed a shelf to steady myself, finishing my climb to my feet.

But, when my own words hit me, I lost my balance and sank back to the ground in an unceremonious heap. Shards of glass sliced into my palms, and I screamed out in pain.

Harper. Melbecka Harper. Not Gamp. No one knew me by that name. The only people that ever did were dead or would never tell. Never.

Unless my mother told them.

Who? Who did she tell? Who put my name on that orb?

I sat there pondering this, watching blood begin to pool around the jagged shard of glass sticking out of my left palm.

"Shit!" I swore suddenly as everything finally came crashing into realization at once.

There were four things I needed to take care of. Urgently.

First of all, and most immediately, I ripped the glass out of my hand and cursed profusely at it. The healing spell did finally come back to me, but I had no time. My hand would be fine. As my mother used to say, I would die a thousand other ways before this got me.

Second, I scrambled to my feet, wincing as my injured palms clenched the shelves to keep balance. Where was it? Where was that orb? I needed that orb with my name on it. I needed desperately to know what it said about me, if it gave any indication as to who made it or how they found out.

"STUPEFY!"

My head whipped around, towards the voices. Scratch number two, on to number three. Find everyone else.

No, no, that was number four. Number three was to remember. Remember how I got those other cuts, why all the orbs were broken, why I was alone. Remember what happened.

I squeezed my eyes shut, pressing my palms against my eyes to get it as dark as possible. It was more conducive to remembering, and sure enough, in the darkness, I remembered the figure coming around the corner. The red flash of a spell, crumpling silently to the ground. The killing curse was loud, so whoever it was had been on a stealth mission.

I opened my eyes again, and immediately regretted pushing my palms against them. I could feel the sticky wetness of blood as I blinked, and I assumed I looked like an ancient tribal sacrifice. Excellent.

Judging by the ruins around me, the mission had failed. Why would they be going for stealth?

_ Harry? It's got your name on it._

Yes, I remembered Ron's voice in the darkness. One of these orby things had Harry's name on it. I spun around suddenly, my head immediately cursing me for it, and scrambled for my orb.

But it wasn't there.

"No," I croaked, the air too dry and dusty for my voice to function properly. "No, n-n-no." It did not break. It did _not_. Desperately, I reached for the next orb in case mine had just rolled over a slot, but a shock jolted through my arm as soon as I came in contact with the glass. I could not pick it up.

And all the pieces clicked together. Of course I couldn't pick it up. It wasn't mine. And the Death Eaters, because of course they were the ones to attack me, were going for the stealth approach because Harry had to pick up his orb before they could make their presences known.

So…what the hell made these orbs so important?

"RUN!"

"Shit," I swore. The voices sounded distant, too far away for danger to be anywhere near me, but I had to find out what was going on. I had to, essentially, charge right into the thick of it. I summoned my wand, which had been buried by shattered glass, and stumbled towards the fray. I got there in just enough time to watch Ron, Ginny, and Luna take off in one direction, closely followed by three Death Eaters, while Harry, Neville, and Hermione ducked through a door. Excellent. So, so excellent.

My allegiance was clear, as was my choice. Even if I wanted to follow Harry, which I didn't (frankly, I was beginning to think this boy was a bit of a twat), I could not get through that door once I heard Hermione seal it. But I did not want to follow them. I wanted to protect Ron and Ginny, so I crept around the Death Eaters attempting to get to Harry. Silently, I cast my shadow spell. I felt the cuts on my forehead throb painfully as I cast the spell, and a tear of blood trickled down my face from the pressure exerted from the wordless spell. I made a note to avoid wordless magic as I crept just behind them, slipping through the darkness unnoticed.

Until my foot shattered a piece of glass on the floor.

All words stopped, and dangerous faces flicked in my direction. I winced and prayed that they were as stupid as the Golden Trio had been earlier, that maybe they would not see through my shadow spell in the darkness.

Three bolts of light, all green, shot in my direction, and I screamed and hit the deck to duck all of them. More glass embedded into my palm, but I had no time to even dig the shards out as I scrambled to my feet and took off in the same direction as the Weasleys and Luna.

"You," a man ordered. "After her!"

Damn and double damn. I swore under my breath and sent three rictusempras over my shoulder. Unfortunately, my casting was too hurried for any of my tickling charms to hit their mark. I swore again and sped up, yanking a piece of glass out of my palm and tossing it over my shoulder.

Then, I quite literally ran into a problem. The hallway ended, and I ran straight into the middle of a stand-off. Ron had his wand pointed at a Death Eater whose wand was pointed at Ginny whose wand was pointed at another Death Eater whose wand was pointed at Ron.

Only the Weasleys…

"_Rictusempra!_" I snapped, hitting the Death Eater threatening Ginny. My presence startled all of them, and three sets of wide eyes turned towards me as my target doubled over with laughter. I immediately thought of a counterspell as the Death Eater threatening Ron raised his wand. But, he didn't send a spell my way. He sent it at his original target, and a bolt of blue light hit Ron right in the chest.

"_Ron!_" Ginny shrieked as the tell-tale beating of footsteps came up behind me. Instinctively, I returned to my old stand-by and hit the deck, pressing my body against the ground. Glass pressed farther into my palms, and I cried out in pain as I felt my hands flatten against the ground; those shards were all the way in. There was no chance of pulling them out now.

Green light shot through the air above me, and Ginny shrieked again as the spell meant for me hit the Death Eater who had just cursed her brother. He crumpled to the ground, and I immediately rolled onto my back and sent another Rictusempra at the murderer before he had a chance to correct his mistake.

"Is Ron okay?" I gasped, watching my opponent double over with glee.

"He…I…there's…"

"_Ginny_!" I snapped. I rolled back onto my stomach to face them and scrambled to my knees. "Is he all right?"

"I don't know!" she snapped right back. "He's…funny."

"Well, something's obviously wrong, then. Ron's never funny," I mumbled, and Ron seemed to find this jab hilarious.

"That's _not_ what I mean, Mel," she glowered at me."

"I know, I know," I rolled my eyes and scooted over to them on my knees, which were very sore from beating against the ground so many times in so few minutes. "Ron, how do you feel?" Blood, thick and a shade too dark, trickled slowly from his mouth, and I wiped it away with the sleeve of my robe.

"You…you made them laugh. Tha's funny," Ron grinned and pointed to the Death Eaters. "But he's not laughing." I followed his finger to the unfortunate recipient of the Avada Kedavra.

"No, Ron, he's not laughing," I muttered darkly. "C'mon, we have to move. Can you walk?"

"Yeeeeah," he grinned. "Can you? Your hands…" he stopped to laugh at the glass in my palms. "You got beat up."

"Merlin," I grumbled. "Where's…wait, where's Luna?"

"Dunno. Ahead of us, I think," Ginny muttered, helping me lift Ron to his feet. Ron was unsteady, swaying back and forth, but he shrugged off our help. "She was followed."

I swore again, which Ron found uproarious. I wanted to leave him behind, out of harm's way, but I had the strong feeling he would wander into trouble anyway. "Let's find her," I grunted.

Ron was surprisingly good on his feet. Not that he was good on them, but he nearly made it out of the room before Ginny had to catch him. She kept an arm around him for support as we continued on. Thankfully, unlike the rest of this place, there was only one path, so Luna was not hard to find.

"There," I pointed as bright lights, obviously from spells, illuminated our path. I rushed ahead to help, secretly hoping that Luna and I could deal with this before Ginny and Ron caught up.

No such luck. Ginny dropped Ron into an unceremonious heap on the floor, which he thought was great fun, and ran so quickly that she even passed me to get into the room first. I watched in horror as Luna sent a spell that the Death Eater dove to dodge, and he grabbed Ginny's ankle. She let out a shriek and Luna sent out a panicked _Reducto_ at them. The explosion successfully sent the Death Eater flying, but a loud crack emanated through the room as Ginny landed, and she yelped and grabbed her ankle. Luna used our distraction to hex her opponent once more and immediately rushed to Ginny's side, so I turned back and picked up Ron. Once he was on his feet, he forced me away and walked on his own until he got to Ginny, and seeing his sister in distress sent him into instant tears.

"Is she all right?"

"I think it's broken," Luna muttered. "Can you fix it?"

"I don't know how to fix bones," I shook my head. "I'm not good with healing spells." That was always Angie's department. I really could have used her right about now. I really could have used George, too. He was good with this stuff, fighting and healing and protecting. I was clearly rubbish at it. "I don't know what's wrong with Ron," I added as Ginny ordered him to stop crying, which worked only because he thought she looked, "hilarious when she was cross,".

"We need to find Harry," Luna decided, and I agreed. Ron got up on his own this time, as did Ginny. Luna and I moved to help her walk, but she turned her wand on us.

"Stay away," she ordered. "I'm fine."

"Your ankle is broken," I pointed out.

"You still have a dart wound in your arm," she countered.

"Touché." Plus side, if erklings _were_ poisonous, I would absolutely be dead by already. I felt it was not the time to bring that up.

Ginny grabbed hold of her brother, Luna took up the rear in case anyone else came after us, so I lead us onward. Thankfully, we ran into no more trouble until I shoved open the door revealing Harry, Hermione, and Neville in the circular room with all the doors. Hermione's markings were gone, I noticed with a sinking heart, so finding our way out was going to be painstaking. Ron found immediate humor in how beat-up Harry looked, and Ginny had to abandon her brother as his knees gave out. Her ankle could not handle the stress, so she let him fall and slid down against the wall to sit herself.

"Ginny? What happened?" Harry asked, slightly panicked. Ginny did not answer, though, just grabbed her ankle and pressed her forehead against her other knee, sucking in deep breaths to steady herself. She should not have walked on it, the mother in me insisted, but I kept my mouth shut as Luna explained what happened.

"We need to get out of here," Harry insisted.

"What's wrong with Hermione?" I asked. It was clear that Neville's nose was broken, but Hermione lay as still as death. Harry shook his head.

"Don't know. This was all a trap, Mel; we need to get out of here."

"Yeah, I gathered-" I began, but the door behind us burst open, and three Death Eaters appeared led by Bellatrix Lestrange. Spells started flying, so I grabbed Ron, Luna and Neville grabbed Hermione, and Harry burst through a door that we all followed behind. He shoved it shut behind it and sealed it with a quick _colloportus_ spell.

"WE'VE GOT THEM, THEY'RE HERE!" a man yelled from the other side of the door, and he was right. We were trapped. There were other ways in; the sealing spell was only a roadblock. We were by no means safe in this room with the floating brains.

"Ron, don't touch," I snapped as Ron reached for the tank of floating, tentacle-y brains. Someone threw their bodyweight against a door, and Harry quickly sealed it. This was repeated by everyone with all the doors leading into this room, Luna and Ginny and Neville and Harry all bewitching doors as a body rammed against it to gain entrance. I would have helped, should have helped, but Ron was insistent on getting a brain (which would have been funny in certain situations).

Luna let out a cry, and we all turned to see her door break through. She flew across the room, sent backwards by a spell she could not block in time, and a surge of Death Eaters burst in. My fellow Ravenclaw hit a desk and landed on the floor to lay as still as Hermione, on the shallow rise and fall of her chest indicating life.

We needed to move, and Harry, Neville and I were now responsible for fighting off five opponents _and _carrying three people. Harry took off running as Bellatrix came at him, which bought Neville enough time to send a curse at someone else. He missed, but it was certainly a good effort. I sent a hex, too, but the move cost me.

"Ron, _Ron_!" I shrieked as Ron summoned one of the brains. The whole room, every battler in it, froze to watch the brain fly at him. At the last moment, I sent a spell towards it, but I missed, and Ron caught the brain with the same boyish grin I saw on his older brothers' faces when they got hold of a dungbomb. "Ron, put it down!"

But, I was too late. Tentacles began wrapping themselves around Ron, shooting out of the brain like vines. Ron protested and tried to shake it off, but nothing stopped it. Harry and I both tried to cut the tentacles with spells, but neither of our attempts worked.

"Harry, it'll suffocate him!" Ginny shrieked from her position on the floor. Her words snapped someone back to attention, and a Death Eater sent a stunning charm straight at her, slumping her over into unconsciousness.

That pissed me off. I was here to _protect _them, and Ron was about to suffocate from a brain while his sister was hit in the face by a stunner. Really? I think not. "_Obliviate!_" I snapped, sending a memory-erasing spell at a Death Eater. Finally, I hit a target, and I watched the recollection fade from his eyes. Memory charms were tricky; it took control to erase the memories you wanted to erase. I had anger, and a lot of it, combined with absolutely no specific target. Whoever I hit probably had a lot of damage done. Good. They deserved it.

Harry clutched the prophecy and took off running again, drawing every Death Eater after him. I swore and grabbed Neville's robes before he could follow. "Neville. _Neville_!" I snapped as the boy tried to struggle against me. "Stay with Ron _stay with Ron_!" He struggled again, so I let him go, and he stumbled a few steps away to glare at me. "Your nose is broken; you can't fight. I need you _here_. Not out there. Here."

"I ca'd hewp hib," Neville shook his head, my words ringing true in his mind.

"You _can_," I insisted. I took him by the shoulders to hopefully show that I believed in him. "The spell is _interficia_. Can you say that?"

"Iderficia."

Merlin. "Okay, point your wand…" I frowned at the wood in his hand. "Point Hermione's wand at the tentacles, flick down to the right" I demonstrated with mine, "and say _interficia_." I demonstrated the whole thing, and the tentacle actually snapped. "Try really hard to say every letter. Really hard."

"Id…Ide…Iddddnnnn….Interficia!"

"Good, great, perfect! Keep doing that. Keep slicing them from his chest; if they get too tight there, his lungs will constrict. And, obviously, keep them from his throat. I _will_ be back for you, all right? I will."

I hoped.

Neville nodded and cast the spell again, more confidently this time, so I took off after Harry.

* * *

><p><strong>Whew! This ended up longer than I intended, and I actually cut it off sooner than I planned because of how long it was getting! I wanted the whole Dept. of Mysteries battle in one chapter, but that would have just been massive. So, since my spring break is coming up, I can hopefully post again very soon. I do have a lot of work (because professors just see 'break' as 'more time to get homework done'!), but I will update as soon as I can! Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing. You're all beautiful, I say, beautiful!<strong>

_**Next Chapter**_**: Phoenix Tears**


	37. Phoenix Tears

It felt wrong to leave Ron behind like that. I should have revived Ginny, although I was unpracticed with the _Rennervate_ spell since Umbridge refused to let us use magic in her class. If it worked, though, she could have protected her brother. Neville could barely say the spell that Ron's life depended on! One wrong cut, and maybe he hit Ron's jugular instead of a tentacle.

"Shi-it," I swore, drawing out the word as I hesitated before the door. But, ultimately, I continued on. I wrapped my hand around my necklace, the one George gave me for Christmas, the one I wore that day as a good luck charm for my final N.E.W.T., and sent a silent plea to the universe that my boys would forgive me for that decision. It would be more useful protecting Harry. If he lost, it didn't matter if we died here. Hell, it would probably be better if we did.

I pushed through the door Harry and the Death Eaters went through, wand drawn, ready to attack. However, we were back in the room with the mysterious veil, the one that whispered and made the air heavy. I was above everyone, with vast stairs separating us; Harry must have tumbled down them, because he scrambled to his feet as I oriented myself in the room. Death Eaters surrounded him, mocking and flaunting their numbers

Since I had the advantage of passing unnoticed, I took the time to consider the best target for my attack. I could hit Lucius Malfoy first since he was closest to Harry, but that would turn eight heads my way, four of which were extremely close. If I hit one of the ones in the back, though, I might not attract any attention my way, which would not help Harry.

A pair of arms wrapped around me, and I screamed in surprise. "Stupefy!" I shrieked, but my wand was pointed forward instead of at my attacker, and the spell shot into empty air. So, there was an extra Death Eater in the room; I had _not_ slipped in unnoticed. "Get off."

"Oh, it appears we have a guest," Lucius Malfoy smirked, and Harry's eyes widened at the sight of me. I saw his surprise, but I detected more than that. Maybe anger? Frustration? Whatever it was, I knew that I did not like it; he had not expected me to follow, and I resented the fact that he expected the most able member of the team to stay behind. "It's…Harper, isn't it?"

"Harper?" A woman questioned, and she turned to face me. Bellatrix Lestrange's eyes lit up at the sight of me. "Tell me, why do I know that name?" I gave up my struggle momentarily, letting my wand point limply at the ground.

"We went to school with a Harper," Lucius supplied. "You remember. Hufflepuff Prefect. Good with creatures."

"Oh!" Bellatrix grinned and turned back to me. "I _do_ remember. Adelaide. She was quite a _daredevil_ back in her day. What is it they say?" She cocked her head severely to the side. "Like father, like daughter? Oh, no," she laughed loudly, the melody echoing off the cold stone walls of the room, "that's not right. Like _mother_ like daughter. Tell me, girl, what do you think she would say if she knew you were here?"

She would have a conniption. "What would yours say?" I grunted as I launched a fresh physical struggle against my captor. As I threw my weight against him to no avail, I subtly rotated my wand around in my hand so the tip faced the man holding me. Bellatrix found my attitude admirable and laughed again.

"You have her last name. Odd." She cocked her head to the other side. "Did you not have a father? Did he…run away? Leave you alone?"

"Something like that," I grunted, settling back down. "_Rictusempra_!"

The arms around me vanished as the Death Eater erupted into laughter. Spells shot my way as a fresh peal of Lestrange laughter bounced through the room, and I ducked down the stairs to avoid them all. I shot out a few more tickling spells as I continued to dodge shots of green light, amazed at how desperately they wanted to kill me. I heard a shouted "_Crucio_!" from Bellatrix as I neared the bottom of the stairs, but I could not tell which direction it came from and it hit me square in the stomach. I became acutely aware of every nerve in my body as if each one was individually prodded with a poker fresh from the fire, and I fell to the ground in agony. As quickly as the pain came on, though, it was gone; Bellatrix screamed, and the noise morphed into her sadistic laugh.

I looked up to see Lupin enter, followed closely by Tonks, whose hair color had changed yet again. Not far ahead was Moody, wand still pointed at Bellatrix from the spell that saved me. Seeing them made me so happy I could have laughed. Oh, how glad I was to see the Order.

Harry appeared at my side and helped me to my feet. "Are you all right?" He asked. I nodded. "Ron?"

"Neville's with him. He can hold off that brain thing. You all right?" Harry nodded, but at that moment a spell hit between us that shattered the floor and made us scatter in opposite directions.

Movement drew my attention forward to the first Order member to enter, and I caught sight of Sirius Black. Immediately, icy fingers clenched my stomach with such strength that I cried out in pain at the physical impact. Maybe someone noticed, but I'm not sure; I hugged my stomach in a desperate attempt to feel warm, to make the Feeling go away, forgetting about everything else in the room. My wand clattered to the ground as the cold spread up to shock my lungs, so strong that I could not even stay on my feet. My knees gave out, and I collapsed to the ground.

"S-Siri…" I tried, but words were too hard. Even the frustrated growl I tried ended up as a pathetic whine, but I knew no one heard that over the spells that started to fly.

The Feeling thankfully began to ebb, although not as quickly as I preferred, and I fumbled desperately for my wand. But, I could not find it. It should have been right next to me, but it wasn't; probably, it hit the ground at a funny angle and bounced away just out of reach. My head pounded too ferociously to even attempt a silent summoning spell, and my lungs still ached from the shock of Knowing that Sirius Black was going to die.

"Ac…" I tried. "Acci…" I took one steadying breath, two…and erupted into coughs. Desperately, I struggled to push myself up at least to my knees, but as soon as my torso left the ground, a spell hit my shoulder and sent me somersaulting across the floor. My shoulder erupted with pain where the spell hit, and I landed with my left hand trapped under my body, rolled onto my back one last time, and lay perfectly still when the force of the spell ended. Nothing else touched me, so I did a quick injury assessment from my dance across the stone.

My knees were skinned, probably filled with pebbles. The back of my head now throbbed worse than the front did, and I wagered a bet that it was bleeding. My left hand felt as if it was completely crushed, which I decided it probably was. A slight flex of my fingers confirmed that they were all at least dislocated, if not worse, and therefore impossible to move. I'd worn the bracelet Fred gave me for Christmas on that wrist as a good luck charm for my exam, and landing on the charms had broken skin in odd little shapes all the way around my wrist. My right hand was all right, though, at least in the finger department. My palm felt ripped open and prickled dangerously, maybe from the glass I never bothered to deal with skidding across stone. My shoulder was definitely the worst of it, and I refused to even look. If I had a gaping wound, I did not want to know.

I did not, however, still feel cold. The initial impact of my Feeling was gone. "Praise Merlin," I croaked.

"STUBEFY!"

"WHAT?" I exclaimed, regaining my voice through a burst of adrenaline brought on from Neville entering the fray. Bloody hell. Who was looking after Ron? "_Neville_?"

"Stubefy!" he tried again, but his nose swelled even more since I last saw him, and it was impossible to get the spell out properly. The wand did not even react to his attempts. It was embarrassing, really. Brave, but embarrassing.

"Neville!" I paused to dodge a spell and sent a hex in return. "Neville, get out of here!"

"I'b here to hepp!" he insisted. "Stubefy!"

"Yeah, you're helping," I grunted to myself. Great, now I had someone else to look after. A male Death Eater locked eyes with me and attempted a spell that created a sickly yellow light that I ducked, and I levitated a chunk of broken stone towards his head. He avoided it easily and laughed at the attempt, which I found extremely upsetting. There was evil, and then there was _rude_. After ducking a stunning spell, I looped the stone around and hit him in the back of the head with it. He lurched forward and dropped his wand, so I used the opportunity to send my own stunner that found its mark quite easily.

When I turned back to help Neville, he was face down at the bottom of the stairs. "Shit!" I swore and rushed to his side. A quick check of his pulse told me he was alive, just unconscious. Probably stupefied by someone capable of producing a proper spell. "Oh, Neville," I murmured. Poor, stupid, brave boy.

I just spotted the purple arcing light out of the corner of my eye, and I leapt out of the way just in time to avoid being shocked by the stray spell. My wand clattered out of my hand from impact, and I prepared to defend myself with a wandless spell just in case.

But, I needn't have worried. As I frantically looked around for someone ready to attack me at my most vulnerable, I had the perfect view of Bellatrix Lestrange. She flicked her wand towards Sirius Black, and a stream of green light shot from it to pass straight through his chest.

The world froze as the spell disappated on the other side of his body. No spells were cast, no other bodies fell. Time stood still while we watched his body slice through the air until it fell through the mysterious, frightening veil. My wand snapped into my hand from a summoning charm I didn't even know I cast, and I sent the wand flying from Bellatrix's hand. Too late. Far too late.

Sirius Black was dead.

Bellatrix laughed, summoned her wand, and ran. Had I been made of stronger stuff, I would have followed, but that was bigger than I could handle. Kingsley caught up to her, though, and continued the duel. Harry shouted and ran for the veil; I let out a garbled, choked shout that would have been words if I was less panicked. The thought of stunning him to keep him from crossing through the veil seriously entered my mind, but Remus grabbed Harry around the waist to hold him back.

At that moment, I really think I hated Harry Potter. Did this boy not understand what just happened? Did he not realize how many people just lost Sirius Black? Yes, Sirius was the closest he may ever get to his father, and I could empathize with that, but I could not tolerate how he handled this moment. Maybe that made me cold and unfeeling, and I knew I would hate myself for thinking like that later. In that moment, though, we still needed the Boy Who Lived to _think_, but he could not. Harry could not even realize that the man holding him back just lost so much more than he had and was handling it so much better. Remus just watched the last piece of his boyhood, the last of his friends, the last person from his languid Hogwarts days, the last of his family, die. And there he was, holding Harry back, ready to keep fighting. He would mourn later. He had a job to finish.

The other Death Eaters, though, looked at something far above us, and I strained my head to see what had their eyes so wide, their faces so pale. What could the evilest witches and wizards be so afraid of?

When I saw him, the answer seemed so obvious. What else would they be afraid of? Dumbledore.

The pain throbbing through my head got the best of me, and I squeezed my eyes shut as I fought back the urge to vomit. All things considered, I really wanted to walk away from this with at least a shred of my dignity left. When the moment passed, I looked up to see that Dumbledore had rounded up the Death Eaters in the center of the room with a spell that bound them together as if by an invisible rope, effectively ending our battle. Kingsley let out a cry and fell to the ground. Bellatrix laughed and turned for her next opponent, which was when she realized that it was over. But, it was not over for her, and she took off running. None of us took off after her. We all seemed to be of the same mindset; let her run. Enough blood had been shed. Both sides needed to limp home and lick their wounds. We could all agree on that.

Except, of course, for Harry, who broke free from Lupin's grasp and chased her out of the room as I sat on the ground, perfectly frozen. One thought and one thought only ran through my head: This room felt like death. The air in the room was too thick, heavy with bloodshed and death. I could feel it pressing in on me from all sides. Ghosts invisibly swam through the air. It weighed on my chest and pressed on my heart and made my head pulse that much more painfully, and I needed to get out.

"Are you all right?" Remus asked as he grabbed my upper arms and hauled me to my feet. "Are there others?"

"Y-y-yeah," I nodded, still staring at where Sirius stood moments ago. Remus shook me and managed to get my attention on him. "Yeah, they're, um, they're this way." Without waiting to see if he followed, I turned and stumbled for the door. I could not stay in that room anymore. How could any of them breathe? Did they not sense it? Couldn't they feel death all around them?

My knees complained with every step, but I refused to heal any of my wounds as I followed the markings and shoved open the door to the brain room. "_Obliviate_," I snapped at the brain purely on a hunch. My spell hit it, and the tentacles stopped. "Thank Rowena," I grumbled. It was genius, really, that the only way (seemingly) to stop an attacking brain was to erase its memory. Brilliant. I should have thought of it sooner.

Ron continued to struggle, but I had no time to deal with him. "_Petrificus totalus_."

"Mel." I ignored Remus behind me and used the spell I taught Neville earlier to slice through the thick tentacles until Ron was free. I just finished the last one when Lupin caught my hand. "_Melbecka_. Calm down. We can handle this."

"No," I insisted. "I came here…I was supposed to protect…" I was supposed to protect them all. I was supposed to protect Ron, who was now, well, _simple_ and covered in freshly-sliced brain tentacles. I was supposed to protect Ginny, who was unconscious with a broken ankle. And Neville and Luna and Hermione and _Sirius_, who I Knew would die the moment I saw him yet I still could not help. My body shook as an effect of all the adrenaline coursing through my veins as I realized how wrong it all went.

"I know."

"You _don't_!" I snapped. I tried to spin around and face him, but my legs shook violently and I nearly lost my balance. Thankfully, Remus caught me before I hit the ground. "Thank you. Ginny's…"

"I know."

"And Hermione..."

"Melbecka. I know. See?" He motioned to Tonks, who went to Luna first since she was closest to the door. "Everything's going to be all right. Now, let me take a look at you." He pocketed his wand, which eased the fluttering fear in my stomach. "Nymph, can you and Kingsley handle the four of them?"

"I think so," Tonks nodded. "It shouldn't be too hard once we get them to the portkey."

"We'll help with that," he assured her.

Moody, who I was unaware was even in the room, grunted at me. "C'mon, Harper. You want to join the Order, right?" It should have surprised me that he knew, but it did not. At that moment, nothing could surprise me. I was just numb. Completely numb. So, I nodded once, barely dipping my head down. "Good. Then, you can help get Ron to the portkey upstairs. There's work to be done; you can recover later."

Maybe he was harsh, but it didn't feel that way. It felt good to have something to do. My body was thankful to levitate Ron's still-petrified body off of the ground and follow Tonks with Luna, Kingsley with a barely-conscious Ginny (and eventually brave Neville), and Remus with Hermione.

"If we all take one, we can do it in two trips. Sound good?" Remus asked as we reached the floo system, where they left a portkey in the shape of a wooden bowl, entirely too quickly. Had we navigated the Department of Mysteries? Taken the lifts? Crossed the atrium? When? Why had none of that processed in my head? I looked around frantically after putting Ron down and saw Moody stumping away towards a commotion at the far end of the hall. There was a large group of people down there, including our headmaster, but they were too far away for me to figure out what was going on.

"Tonks and I will take the worst of them. We will be fine," Kingsley nodded, sharing a look with my old professor that I would have known the meaning of on a better day. "I am sorry, my friend."

Lupin smiled tightly, which only accented how the difficult years had aged my former professor. It never occurred to me until that moment that Remus Lupin spent thirteen years alone, the only people that accepted him dead, convinced that the one person he had left had betrayed him. And now that things had changed, he lost even the one person he had left from those easier days. My heart hurt for him, this lonely man, fairly young but so, so old.

Kingsley slapped a hand onto his shoulder that Remus covered with his own until Kingsley pulled away, and he caught Tonks's eye for the briefest moment. Thatlook. I knew _that_ look. Even in my muddled, confused state, I could recognize love. I had received that look, given that look. I turned to Tonks to see if she had the look's match, but they were gone. Ginny and Neville were left behind for the moment, the least of the injured. Round Two. Ginny blinked slowly and stared straight ahead, brain still foggy from being stunned.

"What were the orbs in there?" I asked before remus could begin to order me around again.

Remus hesitated before he answered. "Why do you want to know?"

"What were they, Remus?" I wanted to glare at him, but I found the anger to do so beyond me. Maybe that was why he answered; he could see how beaten I was.

"Prophecies. When a Seer makes a prophecy, it is captured in an orb and stored in there. Why do you ask?"

"One of them had…well, it had my name on it." Remus did not flinch at the news. "And, um, these letters. _F. to A.P.W.B.D._ What does all that mean?"

"F. stands for the Seer, and A.P.W.B.D. is whoever witnessed it." He looked over his shoulder and licked his cracked lip. "I suppose…"

"It broke," I shook my head. "A lot of them did. They fell from the spells we were casting. There was nothing we could do about it, really."

"Oh. Well, I'm sorry, Melbecka." He did not sound so. "Maybe it's for the best. Some things, we don't need to know."

I think I heard it. And I wanted to tell him, but I didn't. With everything else that happened in the Department of Mysteries that evening, a prophecy that may or may not have been about me, may or may not have been ominous, and certainly created more questions than it answered, did not need to be discussed. It was only now that I had time to think about it that I could even see how it the words I heard when regaining consciousness minorly applied to me. I needed more time to figure out if it could really be mine or not. "Yeah, you're right."

"We should get you back to school."

"No. We'll take them back," I told Remus, gesturing to Ginny and Neville. "I-I don't need to stay…I just want to go…" I stopped by myself. I was going to say 'home', but I wasn't really sure where that was anymore. Was it my place in Knowle St. Giles with my mother? No, that had not been home since I was eleven years old and met a pair of redheaded twins on the Hogwarts Express who taught me to live in a completely different way.

Was Hogwarts my home? No, I would be leaving there soon, and it already did not feel like I belonged anymore.

Maybe Grimmauld Place was my home, but I doubted it. I'd grown a fondness for it in my short stay there against my will, which I still remembered quite strongly. But, it was not my _home_. It was something else. I don't think there's a word for it.

So, what did I want? Where did I want to go? Lupin waited for my response, so I told him the only thing I could think of.

"I want to go see George."

"You will," Lupin assured me, running a hand over my hair in an oddly comforting gesture. "But not right now. You need to go back to school. You don't have to stay, but you need to go. You're injured, and I've heard Madam Pomfrey has a way of handling your…_eccentricities_." I laughed and smacked his hand away, but it pushed on the glass in my palm and hurt. He noticed my wince and looked at my pointedly. "See, that's what I mean. Go back there, clear your head. Be somewhere familiar for the night."

I sighed. He was right, but I didn't want to go. I wanted George.

He was familiar.

Nothing else was.

* * *

><p><strong>I've been writing like a fiend (y'know, if fiends wrote…a lot…), so the next post should be up soon-ish. Hopefully this weekend! Don't worry, she'll be reuniting with the twins soon, really. Not next chapter, but soon. It's coming. Really. I didn't forget about them.<strong>

_**Next Chapter: **_**Thank-You and Goodnight**


	38. Thank You and Goodnight

Despite my fondness for Gryffindor, I left them to their studies on the cool spring evening when my goodbyes could be put off no longer. The term was still a week away from finishing. Ron and Hermione spent their days in the hospital wing; Hermione drank nearly a dozen potions a day, and Ron was covered in welts from the brain. They hardly had any class work to keep them busy; after N.E.W.T.S and O.W.L.S, the term was a joke for 7th and 5th years. I actually wished things were busier. Work kept my mind off of the depression Angie said I developed since that night in the Ministry; even brewing potions lost its charm. That prophecy, which I understood now to be mine, was right. I knew death. I _recognized its face_, as the prophecy said. I was just a long way from understanding its purpose and accepting its reasons. Right now, death was all around me, in every nook and cranny of the castle, and being here suffocated me. After my night in the Hospital Wing, I asked to leave Hogwarts early, which even Angie agreed was the best decision. I was suffering in this place and needed to get out. Given the circumstances, Dumbledore granted my request and, a week before term officially ended, I was graduating from Hogwarts with no fanfare or grand ceremony. I would just slip away in the middle of the night to rejoin my family wherever their adventures had taken them.

"Professor Snape?"

He did not even bother to look up from his desk as he swung his robes over his shoulders. He did, however, acknowledge my presence by actually speaking to me for once. "I have been informed that I will no longer have to endure your presence in my classroom. I take it you will be leaving tonight, Miss Harper."

"Yeah," I murmured. "I can't…I need to…"

"It's been a pleasure."

What? Even though I had been far from voicing the end of my attempted sentence, any chance I had at finishing my thought vanished with his words. "I-I'm sorry, Professor?"

Snape's narrow eyes flicked over my body quickly before focusing back on the bag he had to pack; professors had the summer off, too, after all. It appeared that Professor Snape would be leaving Hogwarts soon after the students and was quite eager to go. "I see you have recovered from your injuries well."

Few people saw our return to Hogwarts due to the nature of the events, but, as an Order member, Professor Snape was there. Cold, emotionless, but _there_. There when Madam Pomfrey suppressed a smirk as I explained why exactly Ron was petrified. There with potions that mended Ginny's broken ankle, brought color to Hermione's cheeks, and put Ron to sleep so he stopped laughing at my face, which was admittedly in poor shape. There to keep me from leaving the Hospital Wing before the healer could get to me (although, I insisted that Madam Pomfrey helped me last after she took care of everyone else). Moments like that were why I never questioned the goodness of Severus Snape's soul even while my schoolmates cowered in fear.

"I'm getting along," I shrugged. The movement tugged painfully on the healing skin of my shoulder, but that was nothing compared to how it used to hurt. My wounds had been fairly superficial and easily healed, but my hands and shoulder were not. Just as I predicted at the time, my left hand broke when I landed on it, and the glass shards tore through some ligaments and a tendon that kept me from moving my last two fingers; I still had trouble straightening them more than three-fourths of the way even with the ointments Madam Pomfrey gave me. My right hand had not fared much better; a glass splinter had nearly gone all the way through to pierce through the back, and most of the skin on my palm had to regrow. My shoulder was the worst of it since the damage was magically inflicted, and other than her best attempt to speed up the process, Madam Pomfrey informed me that only time could heal the wound.

She also scolded me for not dealing with my erkling dart wound sooner. Easily fixed, but absolutely disgusting. Dried blood everywhere, partially healed but torn open from the battle, just a mess. As far as messes went, though, there were worse. Blood dried on my wand from the injuries to my right palm, and I could not get it off. My robes and the uniform underneath were absolutely horrifying, ripped and bloodstained and streaked with dirt, so I burned the whole ensemble from that day. The only salvageable items were the necklace and bracelet from George and Fred; somehow, they survived. It took a good scrubbing to get all the blood off of the bracelet, and I needed a new chain for the necklace. The one it came on originally gave out and snapped when I took it off to shower upon my release from the Hospital Wing. The pendant sat with the matching earrings, which I had not worn that day, waiting for the chance to be whole again.

"Good. Well…" Snape looked up from his bag and observed how intently I stared at him. He huffed to himself. "Miss Harper, it is fortunate for all that you do not have aspirations of the theatrical persuasion. What do you want?"

"I just…ehm…" I looked around his office slowly, taking in all of the ingredients and empty phials and mysterious jars. "You made false Veritaserum."

"Did I?" Snape raised his eyebrows. "And how did I do that?"

"I saw you," I insisted. Now was not the time for him to be shrewd and coy. "And I don't care about why or how or anything. I just want to know what happened to it!" The words sounded pathetic even as I said them, full of assumptions and anticipation that Snape thrived off of squashing. "You had to use it, or else you would have had something to give Umbridge. But you couldn't risk just letting her use it willy-nilly on anybody because it would too obvious that something'd gone wrong. That means that you either gave it to her for someone completely innocent who had nothing to hide, who knew it was fake, or who had too much to lose by drinking it. Now, the first one is entirely too mushy gushy for you, and, yes, I did just say 'mushy gushy'. The second-"

"Please, in the name of all that is sacred in this world, be quiet. Your wild speculations are fascinating, I assure you, but entirely too time consuming. We both have places to be," Snape drawled.

Ah, so we would dance one more time before I left. "I'm not asking you to declare before the Wizengamot, Professor. I'm just wondering…you know, not that I'm flattering myself or anything, but, erm…well, did you give it to her for me?" Snape raised his eyebrows. "You knew she was using entirely too much, so you only had one use. You knew I saw you add the wrong ingredients when you brewed that batch. You knew I knew the effects veritaserum is supposed to have and could therefore act like I'd had some even though I hadn't. I was the perfect candidate. But, there was no reason to give it to me. I mean, it was a complete waste; I didn't know _what_ you'd done with the stuff, so I assumed I got a real potion, and I didn't even drink it. Not that it would have mattered. I had nothing to tell her. Just that I was going to some stupid defense club meetings, and she found out about those anyway. There are so many people more important than me to give it to; Harry or Ron or Hermione o-or some teacher maybe, if she was interrogating anybody like that. What was the use of giving it to me?"

Professor Snape rolled his eyes heavenward and let out a slow breath. "Miss Harper, you make two assumptions, and, as usual, both are extremely stupid to the point of being laughable."

"Yes, I did notice how amused you appear."

He always gave me that sideways glare when I got sarcastic with him. "First of all, the assumption that, had I even made such a creation, I gave it to you is logically preposterous. As you said, you showed, for the first time since you stepped on to the grounds of Hogwarts, reasonable intelligence in a…trying situation. You are entirely too crass to drink tea when offered."

I smiled. "Well, thank you. I have attempted to adopt the admirable traits of my favorite Hogwarts professor, and I think many would agree that intelligence and crassness are the foremost of them."

"Sometimes, Miss Harper, I wonder if it is possible for someone to have been born with a personality as exasperating as yours, or if it must be learned through one's environment."

"That's sweet," I grinned solely to further his 'exasperation'. Snape did his best to hide any reaction and instead shoved something else into his bag. "What was the second assumption that I made?"

"Hmm?" He frowned up at me, but quickly recovered. "Ah, yes." He turned back to his bag, now tasked with readjusting the contents so it all fit properly inside. "I find that people sometimes underestimate just how important they really are, and when those people know as much as you do, foolish thinking like that is going to get us all killed."

I waited for more, but Professor Snape was done. He muttered a spell under his breath to ease his packing woes, but neither his eyes nor his words danced my way. This was our final moment in the walls of Hogwarts. Even though I would see him plenty in the struggles to come, something about this moment felt like an ending.

"Professor Snape?"

"Why are you still here?"

I grinned again. "Thank you." He did not ask what for, but I explained anyway. "You inspired me. You frustrated me and irritated me and made me cry, but you inspired me. Everyone says you're so mean and frightening, but you always had time for me. You acted like you didn't, but you did in the end- you let me watch you brew potions and explained procedures to me and encouraged my creativity and interest in the field. I mean, I wonder if you ever actually tested that potion I brought you at the start of the school year or if you just made something up and are waiting for me to test it out so you can have a good laugh when nothing happens, but that's just part of the territory. You have your own way of mentoring, and that's exactly what I needed to find something I truly love doing. So…thank you."

Professor Snape was still, silent, and the room felt awkward without one of us in motion. I cleared my throat and turned around; it was time for me to go. The words were said, and there was no need for emotions to follow. We could feel in private. There were other goodbyes to say. I just crossed the threshold into the hallway when someone behind me may have responded,

"You're welcome."

FGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFG

The setting sun cast an orange glow on the grass around us as I sat in the field where the world had changed. The evening brought with it the promise of a storm, and the wind carried the scent of rain as it splayed my hair across my face. I slid on the headband I brought with me to tame my curls against the onslaught and then let my hand rest on the patch of earth next to me, careful with those pesky two fingers.

Grass had grown there once, not too long ago. No one ever thinks very much about grass, and I am sure we ran across that particular patch at least once or twice in our ridiculous exploits across the Hogwarts grounds. We used to love chasing each other across the grounds and climbing trees and performing amateur acrobatics that we knew nothing about. It was common to lounge in the sun and study the stars and play in the snow and sing in the rain. We did it all.

Now, I sat next to patch of shriveled brown stalks that would never grow again, forever ruined by the remnants of the unforgivable. I had truly impressed on my DADA practical by saying that dark magic left little marks on the world that we could never undo. The damage to a person was deplorable, but that was not the only permanent mark of what had transpired. This grass represented a death. A needless death symbolizing the true horror of the war to come; no one was safe, no matter how innocent or apathetic. We would all have to choose a side in the end.

"Hey, Cedric." I gently rubbed my hand against the earth, back and forth, back and forth, as the wind momentarily subsided. "Thought I'd come visit one last time. I don't know if you're still lingering here or if you've moved on or if spirits really linger at all, but I feel closer here." As the wind picked up, slicing through my robes to chill my skin, warmth prickled at my fingertips. I smiled. "Hey. I felt that. Thank you." The wind calmed again, settling to a mild breeze that rustled the banners surrounding the Quidditch pitch that had once been a massive maze.

"I know I told you how much I missed you probably a zillion times, and I can say that because you're not around to remind me that 'zillion' isn't a quantifiable number." I giggled and imagined all the times Cedric had said those very words to me. He was hardly a stickler for accuracy; he just loved to see me flustered. I had not said 'zillion' in a long time. Not since he had died. "I think it's getting better. For the longest time, you felt like this gaping hole that had been torn out of my heart, Ced. I missed you so desperately. I couldn't even imagine how I was going to handle this place without you. But look," I offered a half-hearted smile at the setting sun, "I did it. Here I am, Melbecka Harper, ready to leave Hogwarts behind her." I sighed. "I just never thought I'd be doing this without three of my best friends."

A particularly biting wind stung at my eyes, making them well up with tears. "Oh, look at me," I chuckled, wiping at my eyes with one sleeve while keeping the other firmly on the ground. "I told you I was doing better, and here I am blubbering like an idiot. I'm no better than Cho. Don't take that the wrong way; she's a lovely girl. She just has a tendency to cry. You know that. I've been rereading our letters – the ones you sent me, not the ones I sent you – and I came across the one when you told me that she cried after the first time you two…well…you know. Got it on. Did the deed. Partied in the…you get the idea. Why did you tell me about that? I did _not_ need to know about that!" I laughed in a fresh round of disbelief at my dear friend. "You always were a git. I was told never to speak ill of the dead, but you did _that_ when you were well and alive. Merlin, Cedric, we had good times, didn't we?"

It may have been my imagination misreading the feel of the stagnant earth under my hand as the ever-changing wind blew around me, or maybe a byproduct of all the healing concoctions I had ingested in the past 12 hours, but I swore I felt that prickle again. My laughter died down with the wind, and I looked around myself slowly to take in the darkening clouds that had rolled in. The scent of rain was stronger now, filling my nostrils with the scent I loved so much. _Please, Rowena, no thunder. Don't let there be thunder._

"Did it hurt to die, Cedric?"

The question was asked by a tiny voice, but the wind could not blow it away. It hovered in front of me, taunting me with the one thought that had been pervading my dreams and my studies and my romance. I barely realized I had been the one to ask it, but I knew for sure that I had heard it, and there was no one else around.

"That's silly. You can't answer. Forget…I was just wondering. There's a war coming, and people are going to die, and I'm scared, Ced. It's not that I won't do what needs to be done. I just…I guess I just don't want it to hurt." I placed a hand on the ground to shift my weight and felt the familiar cold twinge of Knowledge in my stomach. I ignored it. Whatever the universe wanted to tell me, it could tell me later. I had been getting too many Feelings lately; someone would die in this spot, a Cruciatus curse would be cast there, that person would choose to leave, whatever. Since Sirius, I was teaching myself to stop listening.

"I did things this year that I never dreamed I would do. I'm in love. I never thought I'd do_ that_. Especially not with a Weasley…" I murmured the last thought and then giggled in a combination of girlish joy at my luck and ridiculousness at how easily I used to write off the romantic potential of the twins. "Merlin, it's a pain, too. I want to throttle him sometimes for absolutely no reason. And don't tell me it's that 'time of the month', because I will find a way to throttle you, too. He is nothing but sweet, yet there are these moments that he does something so damn adorable that I just want to slap him. Is that even normal?" A drop of water splashed against my shoe. "Yeah, I s'pose it is. Love makes you daft, and I was three-quarters of the way there to begin with."

Another fat drop hit my nose, and I brushed it away with my bare hands. The feel of my dry cheek made me pause; it had never occurred to me that I had stopped crying. I just _had_. I could hear the rain now as it bounced off of the stands around me. The droplets came down slowly and far apart, barely touching me as I sat in the center of the pitch with my hand still pressed firmly to the ground. "I miss you, Cedric, and I will never forget you." A drop splatted onto my forehead and slowly rolled down towards my eyes. "I have to go. I love you. I'd say 'stay safe', but that seems rather pointless. Was that rude of me?" I wrinkled my nose. "Eh, you would have made the same joke. If I ever get back to Hogwarts, I'll stop here. I don't think I will, though. I don't see much reason to ever come back this way. Still, we'll find each other. I've got your letters and our memories. You don't…I don't know. You don't feel as close lately. Is that because you're passing on, or because I'm finally moving past this?" The earth gave no answer, of course. "Well, either way, that's a good thing, isn't it? I can't mourn you so terribly forever, and no one wants you spending eternity as a Hogwarts ghost." The very mention of it made me feel sick. "Wherever you go, I hope you stop by from time to time. Bye for now, dear." I gave the ground one last, slow rub and then gently rolled to my feet.

I was three or four paces away, rain steadily falling now, when I thought of it. I turned back to the spot where I had last seen Cedric Diggory and looked instinctively at where his eyes would be had he been standing there. He had stood there once. Few people realized it, but Cedric Diggory came back dead from the graveyard in the very same spot that we last saw him alive. It had been his entrance point to the maze. No one else seemed to notice that. I could never forget.

"Hey, Cedric?" I called back. Cedric would have looked at me expectantly with an easy grin on his face had he been there, maybe relaxed his weight onto his heels as he shoved his hands into his pockets, ready for whatever I had to say. I would have chickened out when I caught his mischievous eyes and he would have smiled softly at me and told me to stop being daft, that we had better things to do than stand here in the rain while I stared at his handsome visage. I would point out how annoying he was, and he would start listing all the ways that I drove him insane. We would laugh and push each other around and get soaking wet as the rain poured around us. We would splash in puddles and sing nonsensical songs to the crying heavens and magically sling mud at each other.

Cedric was not there, though. Nothing was there. Nothing but a patch of shriveled brown stalks that would never grow again. I smiled anyway. He was gone, but that wound was beginning to heal much like my hand and my shoulder. It was on its way to becoming one of the hidden scars that buries itself deep inside the survivors of war.

"Thank you for being my friend. I know it wasn't always easy."

FGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFG

One thing I had discovered over the years was that there was a distinct lack of security on the last few nights of school. It left me free to wander into the library, where I cast a stolen spell from a dear friend for old times' sake and liberated _From Berries to Brews _from its musky corner. I drifted by Professor Flitwick's office, where I slid a heartfelt thank-you note under the door for my dear head of house. In the dungeons, I broke in to Professor Snape's classroom to leave a jar of flobberworm mucus, bedecked with a shimmering blue bow, right on his desk. Rowena knew I'd stolen more than my fair share over the years.

Laughter spilled into the hall as someone entered the portrait hold to Gryffindor while I passed by. The Fat Lady smiled at me as she swung shut.

"Going in?"

I stuck my hands in my pockets and squinted into the dark hallway I'd been plodding aimlessly along. "No. Not tonight. Thanks though." I turned to leave as the Fat Lady swung open for some other late-night explorer.

"Mel?"

I turned back suddenly, startling the Boy Who Lived. Well, he had startled me, so it was only fair. He and I lived so closely together but barely ever spoke. Addressing me in the darkness after what we went through felt odd, like we were crossing a boundary into uncharted territory. A world no one had ever explored before.

"Harry. How are you doing?"

He shrugged. Yeah, I knew that feeling. "Can we…" He cocked a thumb over his shoulder. "Can we talk?"

"Oh, yeah! Sure," I nodded a bit too enthusiastically. Part of me knew where this was going, and the rest of me hoped I was wrong. We wandered a few steps away from the portrait hole, just far enough for the shadows to hide us. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, I was just wondering, because…um…I knew you and Cedric were…" Harry stopped.

"We were friends, yeah," I finished for him. I really did not like where this was going, but I let him continue. I knew if roles were reversed, I would probably go there, too.

"Well, how do you deal with it?" he asked. "With knowing he's gone?"

I shook my head. "I don't know, Harry. When I figure it out, I'll let you know." I turned to leave, but I thought better of it and turned back as Harry opened the portrait hole with the password. "Harry?" I called. He stopped and looked back at mne. "Don't blame yourself for this. You didn't do anything wrong. In fact…I dunno…if you're gonna blame anyone…" I stopped. If he was going to blame anyone, he should blame me. He should blame me for not being able to control an ability I had my entire life. He should blame me for going to help him but not being able to, for becoming a liability. I didn't say any of that, though. I just let my words hang there in the darkness.

Harry shook his head. "I don't know if I blame anyone," he shrugged. "If I do, I'll let you know."

FGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFG

"Professor?" I knocked lightly on the doorframe of Dumbledore's office. My headmaster looked up at me slowly as he repositioned a book on his desk. "Hi. Erm…it's good to see you in your office again."

"Thank you, Melbecka. It is always nice to know one was missed."

"You were," I nodded. "Did you send off a letter to my mother?" Dumbledore motioned for me to sit down, which I ignored due to the panic that immediately set in when he did not answer. "Sir, you know she's going to have a fit when she hears about all of this, and the only way to put her mind at ease-"

"Melbecka, I really do think you should sit down. I even made you tea. Blueberry, one sugar, just a hint of cream." He nodded towards the handsome black mug steaming invitingly on the edge of his desk. The man knew exactly how to calm me down; I doubted if even George knew that particular weakness. So, if only for the tea, I sat. I can assure that the tea was worth it. "Now, I must inform you that, no, I did not send a letter to your mother regarding last night's, shall we say, events. Normally, you know I would help you with this, but I no longer feel that it is my place to interfere."

"Interfere?" Since when was easing the mind of a woman on the brink of mental instability 'interfering'? "No, Professor, maybe you don't understand. I _want_ you to help…"

"Oh, I understand quite well, Melbecka. You see, it is not in my powers to offer assurances to those far removed from the walls of this castle, and Mrs. Adelaide Harper is quite far removed indeed. She has very little connection to this world, a life that is commendable indeed, and has so little connection in fact that she no longer has even a child attending Hogwarts." He smiled softly at me as I realized what he meant. "These past seven years have granted me the privilege of watching you grow up, Miss Harper, and I assure you that you have become quite a woman. You fought most admirably in a battle that was not yours to fight."

"Of course it was," I muttered to my hands; Dumbledore's eyes could be quite overwhelming when he stared like that. "Of course the battle was mine to fight. It was _everyone's_ battle to fight." Without those to protect Harry, our world would end. It did not take a Ravenclaw to see that.

"True." Dumbledore smiled softly and leaned back in his chair. "Not every battle involves weapons and death, Melbecka. Sometimes, the hardest battles we face require nothing more than a pen, some paper, and a bit of heart."

He was right, as he always was. My mother was my problem to face. As a grown woman, I had to find my own solution, not rely on my headmaster to make it all better. It just seemed too daunting; she was there my whole life, blocking me, holding me back. It was all with the best intentions, and I knew it came from a place of love, but my last two years of Hogwarts required me to grow up a lot, and growing up showed me that sometimes even the best of intentions just were not good enough.

"I will," I sighed, savoring a long sip of tea as footsteps climbed up the stairs behind me. "But, I have a question first. When I was in the Department of Mysteries, there was a prophecy about me. From F. to A.P.W.B.D. I know it was to you; I'm pretty sure there's no one else in the world with those initials." Dumbledore grinned. "And I'm assuming F. is Firenze since there's no last initial. Am I right?" He nodded. "It broke and I'm not sure if I heard it. I was wondering if you could tell me what the prophecy was, Professor."

"Ah, yes," Dumbledore nodded slowly. "I wondered how long it would take you to ask about that. But, if I may be so bold as to question, is there really anything I could say that would ease your mind?"

"You could tell me the prophecy didn't say that I will Know death and I will face it as bravely as I lived and that I am the only person that will ever Know the secrets that mortal beings aren't supposed to Know."

"Would hearing that make you feel better?"

Why did he have to do that? Why did he always ask those stupidly simple questions that made you think about the five other questions he was _really_ asking? I hated that! "No," I grumbled. "I'd know you were lying to me."

"Then, I can't tell you that in good conscience. It seems to me that you have already heard all there is to say on the matter. Unless you have any more questions." I shook my head. No, I had no more to ask. I may not understand the prophecy, but I heard it. Dumbledore beamed at something over my shoulder. "Ah, Remus Lupin! What timing you have!" I turned around to see my former professor in the doorway, and relief washed over me to see him. To think, I once feared this man. Now, I only feared that he had lingered in the doorway long enough to hear about my prophecy. "I take it you have all your belongings together?" I nodded and gestured to the trunk in the hall with a caged Wooster, who was for once content to be packed away. "Excellent. Well, then, I shouldn't keep you any longer. I believe you'll be returning to your Christmas vacation residence for the night, yes?" Remus nodded. "Excellent." I put the nearly-empty mug back on his desk and stood to leave. "Oh, Miss Harper?"

"Yes, Professor?"

Dumbledore smiled at me softly. "It has been a joy."

I smiled and took one last, long look around that office. This was hardly how I expected to make my exit from Hogwarts. In my mind all these years, I spent the night wide awake with Angie, left arm-in-arm in a chain with Fred and George, sending a smile in Cedric's direction, let off pranks on the train, and rushed into my mother's arms at the station. I never expected to slip out unnoticed in the middle of the night, wounds healing, following a werewolf whom I trusted with my life, desperate to escape the oppressive air of school. This place once meant freedom, an oasis from my mother's rule, but all I could feel now was the death to come.

"Thank you, Sir."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Next Chapter: <strong>_**Reunions and Ghosts (including the star-studded return of our favorite twins! Well, my favorite twins, at least!)**


	39. Reunions and Ghosts

Despite everything else going on in the kitchen of 12 Grimmauld Place when Remus and I got there, the enticing food and the chaotic discussions and Mrs. Weasley immediately trying to fix my rumpled clothes, I went straight for George. Isn't that what I always do? Straight for George. He found me as soon as I entered the room, and stood up with my first step in his direction so he could catch me when I got to him. Never before had I so desperately needed one of his hugs, the kind that engulfed me and made me feel like there was nothing in the world. It was bone crushing and made it hard to breathe, but it was a relief to have a physical reason why my lungs felt compressed and unable to get quite enough air. He held on to someone he half-expected not to be there, and I reminded myself that I had made it. My shoulder protested the pressure, but I relished in the pain. It reminded me that I was alive and safe and home. Maybe I wondered before, but now I knew that anywhere was home as long as I had him.

"You had us scared there, Mel," Fred announced.

I pulled away from George and rubbed at my eyes, trying to wipe away the exhaustion that had not left my body since exiting the Ministry building. "I know," I mumbled. "Sorry."

"You ought to be," George snapped. I froze with the heel of one hand still pressed firmly to my left eye, the other hand hanging by my side. What was that tone for? "What were you thinking, running off like that?"

"What are you on about?" I looked to Fred for some insight, but the other Weasley twin looked as confused as I felt. Whatever bug had crawled up George's ass had not sent its brother in Fred's direction.

"You can't just go running off to save the world, Mel. It's the most idiotic thing you've ever done!"

"Don't yell at me!" I insisted, stamping my foot solidly against the floor. This therefore ensured that anyone's attention he had not already attracted was now firmly on us. Lovely.

"You…just…yelled yourself…" Tonks pointed out, half-mumbling so no fury was turned her way.

"Because you were stupid!"

"Don't call me stupid, George! You told me to protect Ron and Ginny, and that's what I did."

"You told her to –" Mrs. Weasley began, but Fred shushed her to save her life.

"I asked you to watch out for them. I didn't ask you to go running after Death Eaters!"

"Well, what the hell did you think was going to happen? Did you think we were going to join the Order and spend our days dropping dungbombs and launching fireworks? This is real, George!"

"You didn't do it for the damn Order, Mel, and we both know it."

It was only through extreme willpower that I did not throttle him. "Then, why the hell did I do it, George? Apparently, you're the expert on why _I_ do things, so," I gestured to the room and gave him a condescending smile laced with venom, "please enlighten us."

"It was a week away, Mel! Did you think I wouldn't notice that you decided to risk your life a week away from the anniversary of Cedric's death?"

"Don't accuse me of that, George!" I insisted shrilly. "Is it so hard to imagine that I was just brave?"

"No," he grumbled, slapping a hand to his forehead, "that's not what I'm saying." He yanked the hand away and raised his voice again. "Don't twist this around on me like that! Just look me in the eye and tell me this wasn't about Cedric. That's all I want."

"She was friends with the Diggory boy?" Moody muttered to Lupin, who nodded.

"Yes, I was."

The rest of the room froze as they were suddenly pulled in to our argument. George shut his eyes and squeezed the bridge of his nose as the tension between us lessened and instead diffused throughout the room.

"You could just ask me, you know. You don't have to act like I can't hear you." I completely cast George aside and turned my focus on Moody, feeling my anger already beginning to ebb. I tended to get angry in short bursts. My current levels of frustration and pride were too overwhelmingly tiresome to keep up this pace for long.

Moody eyed me evenly. In a voice that felt unnervingly quiet compared to the uncharacteristic shouts of earlier, he stated, "I'm sorry."

I shook my head and glanced away in frustration as thoughts that I had long ago pushed away came rushing back. "Yeah," I mumbled, feeling suddenly very drained, "you should be."

"What does that mean?" Remus asked carefully, noting my tone.

"We don't need to go into that." George shook his head as he reached for my shoulders. He knew it, too, then. Maybe he had thought the same things at some point. I let him take my arms only because Moody and I were locked in a stare down now and nothing else really mattered.

"It was my fault the boy died."

"Well, that's ridiculous!" Mrs. Weasley burst. "How could anyone think that?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Fred sighed wearily from his post leaning against the table. "Barty Crouch Jr. got into the school disguised as him." He cocked his head towards Moody. "If he had been…well, it never would have happened if he had stopped Crouch before he ever got to Hogwarts."

Moody, still watching my unflinching face, remained as unreadable as I was while he continued the explanation. "Without Crouch, there would have been no tampering with the tournament. No Potter, no portkey, no graveyard. No killing curse."

"Oh, now really, Alastor, that's ridiculous," Molly Weasley insisted. No one spoke up to support her, which was an unusual situation for her. "Mel doesn't believe that," she maintained shrilly. She looked to Fred for support since George's focus was only on me. Fred, however, only shifted his gaze away from her and scratched the back of his head. "She doesn't. Melbecka, tell him you don't believe that!"

"I don't know what I think about all of that, all right?" I snapped, finally shrugging out of George's hands. Why did Weasleys always insist on talking for me? "I just know that I don't like you very much."

Without ever revealing what he was feeling, Moody nodded shortly. "You wouldn't be the first."

"I need some air," I grunted. George reached for me, and I let him take my arm. I kept walking, though, and took his wrist when he let his hands fall away. Part of me wanted desperately to be alone. The majority of me, though, needed him. That part won out. I pulled him behind me, our fight forgotten about for the time being. We could deal with it later.

The door clicked shut behind us when we were about halfway down the hall, and George planted his feet firmly so I had to turn around. When I dropped his wrist, George reached for my hand but thought better of it. He stepped towards me, stopped, and stepped back.

"Mel, please." He raked his fingers through his hair and shifted his weight. Never before had I seen him so wishy-washy.

"Look at me," I muttered, almost more to myself than to him. It came out as a whispered prayer to the universe rather than a command aimed at him. "George, look at me."

He did not. "Mel, I just need to know." Then, his eyes did find mine, and what I saw there hurt my heart. They swam with turmoil, the same turmoil that forced him to keep moving. "Did the Department of Mysteries have anything to do with Cedric?"

I had thought about this before. Of course I had. I spent my last nights in Hogwarts trying to figure out why I rode on the back of a beast I could not see to rescue a man I barely knew from the darkest wizard of all time. This moment with George had been coming since I agreed to help Harry break in to Umbridge's office, and I'd spent a lot of time making sure I was ready for it.

"No." I shook my head. "It didn't. I did it to keep everyone safe. But," I shrugged helplessly as the realization I always held back finally broke through, "I failed."

"Oh, Mellie," George breathed, stepping towards me to continue the hug that had been interrupted earlier by our petty squabbles. "You didn't fail." Being back in his arms, feeling his hands squeeze the fabric on the back of my shirt, made sobs uncontrollably wrack my body even though I had not felt even close to tears before. There was just nothing I could do to stop myself from crying.

"I d-d-did," I insisted. "Sirius died." Some protector I turned out to be.

"You couldn't have stopped that," he murmured into the hair just above my ear. I squeezed him tighter to thank him for his unwavering loyalty to me. He would have been a good Hufflepuff.

But, he was wrong. I should have saved Sirius. There must have been some way. If I was better with wandless spell casting, I could have done it. I could have disarmed Bellatrix. I just was not good enough. I wasn't good enough.

"You couldn't have done anything," George insisted as if he could hear my thoughts. Sometimes, he made me wonder if he had some psychic abilities he never spoke of. "There was nothing anyone could do."

I did not know if I agreed with him, but I shook too violently with sobs to respond. George shushed me and rubbed my back and let me cry it out there in the hallway. He knew that was what I needed.

Sometimes, all a girl really needs is a good cry.

It was much, much later when I slipped out of George's arms in the darkness of his bedroom. If Mr. or Mrs. Weasley had noticed that I was not in my bed, or that Fred had taken up a room somewhere else for the night, they had said nothing. I was thankful for that.

George slept soundly, which I was also thankful for. It was no longer in my nature to sleep through the night, so I pulled on a pair of thick wool socks, ruffled the hair of his sleeping form, and slipped silently from the room. I pulled the door shut firmly behind me and crept down the squeaky staircase into the kitchen.

I was unsurprised to find someone else in the room. 12 Grimmauld Place had its share of occupants who could not sleep. The kitchen filled with thoughts in the wee hours of the morning.

"Alastor," I nodded. Using his first name was supposed to show that I considered us on the same level. I think, though, that it just showed what a child I really was. Hopefully, though, it also showed that I was not lying when I said that I did not like him.

"Harper," he grunted, staring into the fireplace. "Can't sleep?"

"I normally don't. You want some tea?" He shook his head, but I still filled the kettle for two. I found that people normally changed their mind in situations like this.

"It isn't healthy not to sleep. You should do something about that."

I wrinkled my nose. "I don't like potions."

"From what I've heard, you're quite a budding potioneer."

"Oh, I love making them. I don't like _taking_ them."

Moody grunted again. "Can't blame you."

"What about you? You couldn't sleep either?" Shifting the subject from me to him was vital; I really did not like people investigating me. In response to my question, he shook his head. "Ghosts?" No reaction. "Look, I do have my bedroom activities to get back to, I promise, but I have something to say first."

"Make it quick, because if those activities have anything to do with George Weasley, I need to gouge out my eardrums and cast a memory charm on myself."

I laughed. "You're funny, and it's not like that. George is asleep; I only intend to read. I just…I really need to say something." Moody's eye swiveled upwards, probably checking my story for some strange reason. Story confirmed, it whirled back to me even though the rest of him watched the fire, and he nodded for me to continue. "Cedric was the only competitor that didn't know about the dragons for the first challenge of the Triwizard Tournament. The only reason he found out was because Harry Potter told him, and Harry was only told through some strange chain of events that somehow started with Barty Crouch Jr. Now, I think that Cedric was perfectly capable of taking on a dragon spur-of-the-moment, but I can't say that with one hundred percent certainty. No Crouch, no tip-off. Harry Potter wouldn't even have been in the Triwizard. It was Crouch that told Cedric how to open the egg for the second task, and that egg was the key to the whole thing. Without it, he would have faced an hour underwater completely blind. And, who knows what happened in that maze?"

"What are you saying, Harper?"

"I'm saying…" I sucked in a deep breath, and Moody looked at me expectantly. What was I saying? I guessed that I was saying what I spent the last few hours thinking about as I listened to George's deep, rhythmic breathing in the darkness around me. I just did not want to say it; words made it real. I took a deep, steadying breath so I could say it before I could change my mind. "I'm saying that…maybe Cedric would have died in the Triwizard Tournament anyway. Maybe there was nothing anyone could have done." The tea kettle whistled shrilly, but I made no move towards it. Boiling water. Eugh.

"I'm saying that I don't blame you."

The room was quiet for a few breaths with only the scream of the tea kettle and the crackle of burning wood to keep us from total silence. Without a word, I waved my hand so the tea kettle lifted off of the heat onto an unused burner of the stove, and the whistling subsequently petered out into hiccupping squeaks.

"Well," he finally grunted, turning back to the flames. "That makes one of us."

Without asking, I poured Alastor Moody a cup of tea before I left the kitchen. I had originally intended to stay but found it too crowded.

The room was filled with too many ghosts without the addition of mine.

FGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFG

"Do you think I should blame Moody?"

Fred raised his eyebrows as he prodded the edge of a chocolate with his wand. "For Cedric? No."

"If it had been me, would you blame him?"

"You bet your bottom I would," he stated matter-of-factly, poking the chocolate again. It sparkled for a second, glimmering like sequins in the midday sun, and then it faded back to a dull cocoa. "He jinxed it. Prat."

"George?"

"Lee. Sent us chocolate to gloat that he's graduating and we won't."

"Good for him. Now," I whacked Fred's shoulder, sending him lurching into the desk. His hand flailed out for balance and nearly knocked the chocolate over the edge, but he caught it just in time and put it back in its original position as he shot me a dirty look. "Stop giving me mixed messages about this Moody thing."

"I'm no-ot," he whined, rubbing his chest where it had connected with wood. "You shouldn't blame him for what happened, but I understand why you would. That's all. Don't hit me again!" He winced preemptively even though I barely flinched. Oh, the power I held. It made me smile.

I held my palms skywards in a silent vow of halted violence now that we were on the same page. "Do _you_ blame him for Cedric?"

He sighed, turning in his chair to face me. "I don't know, Mel," he mumbled, raking his fingers through his hair. "Maybe." He squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yeah, maybe." He nodded and shrugged helplessly. "I wish I didn't. Maybe I don't. I don't know." He winced and raked his fingers through his hair. "Cor, that whole thing is just so bloody _confusing_, Mel."

"I know. I'm just…I'm so glad to be out of Hogwarts, Freddy. I'll never go back there."

"I know," Fred rolled his eyes, picking up the chocolate to study it in the sunlight. "I won't miss the place."

"I just wish it had ended two years earlier. No Triwizard and no Umbridge."

"Yeah," he grunted, leaning against the desk where a half-written letter to Angie waited to be finished, "I've been meaning to talk to you about that. D'you remember that conversation we had with Cho about how Umbridge was a Hufflepuff because maybe she had some muggle in her?"

I nodded warily, leaning back against George's marching desk. "Ye-esssss," I answered slowly. It always worried me when Fred thought.

He began tossing the chocolate into the air and catching it. "Well, I was thinking."

"Good. I'm very proud of you."

"Hush," he ordered, and I grinned. "See, Umbridge isn't a family name. I did all this research about the original families." He waved his hand as if this was nothing, but pride flickered in his eyes. He loved telling me when he researched; it was a matter of honor for him to present a Ravenclaw with his intelligence. Oh, yes, I knew more about this Fred Weasley than he could even begin to imagine. Or, maybe he did know exactly how well I knew him. Maybe he knew me that well, too. "But, you've said that the Sorting Hat couldn't decide between Ravenclaw and Slytherin for you, but Harper is not a family name, either."

Damn.

_Damn_.

Fred caught the chocolate and held it, crossing his arms. It was much more intimidating to stare at me, anyway. Hell, that was why I always stared at people.

I gulped, but I straightened my back and tossed my hair defiantly over my shoulder. I would not be challenged by Fred Weasley. The boy was contemplating eating a jinxed chocolate!

"No, it's _not_ a British family name," I conceded stiffly. "You're right."

"Well, yeah," he rolled his eyes. "I didn't exactly expand my research to the wizarding families of Madagascar for this. Umbridge is British. So're you."

"Harper is my mother's name." Damn. This conversation had always been inevitable, but part of me had hoped that it would fade away. It had fallen out of my conscious thoughts, but it still bled into my dreams, a common thread tying together the nightmares in which I did not die.

Fred considered this. "Still doesn't explain it. It just adds the question of why you use her name."

"She thought it would be safer than using my dad's. Blood traitor, killed by Death Eaters, all that." Fred nodded at that as if my mother actually had exercised some logic. Then, though, he frowned.

"Your father died when you were four." I nodded. "That was a year after the first war ended. All the Death Eaters were either in Azkaban or in hiding by then."

I shook my head. "Well, not exactly. There were some out there. Some fell through the cracks, pled that they were under the Imperius curse to follow Voldemort." It surprised me how easily the name slipped off of my tongue now. "I've told you before that my father was in Slytherin when he was in school, right?" Fred nodded. "Well, he made a lot of enemies during the war. I'm not really sure why; my mother would never really talk about it. But, there were people after Voldemort fell that wanted to see him dead for his betrayal."

"So, they killed him secretly? No one ever caught them?"

I shook my head. "No one ever did. The Carrows had already been tried for following Voldemort and released, and I don't think my mother has any proof that it was them. She _knows_, but she can't prove anything. And, she never knew if they would come back for me, y'know, to get rid of the child that may seek vengeance or whatever, so she did everything she could think of to protect me."

Fred nodded slowly. "The Carrows?" I nodded. "There was more than one?"

"Two. A brother and sister. Amycus and Alecto. My mother told me once that if I ever hear one of those names, run as far and as fast as I can."

"Might be good advice," he murmured. "I'm still confused, though. That all explains why you don't use your father's last name, but you're pureblooded, and Harper still isn't a family name no matter who killed your dad."

"Harper is an Australian name."

"I've met your mum. She's from Knowle St. Giles, which is barely twenty minutes walking from where I live, and I'm pretty sure that is _not_ Australia."

"No, of course not," I snapped. "Her dad was. He wanted to travel through Europe, met an Italian woman, convinced her to marry him, and they moved here hoping their kid would get into the best wizarding school in the UK. Thus, the Harper's reign in Knowle St. Giles began."

"And what a reign it has been. So close to the Burrow, and you barely come to visit." I batted at his shoulder, and he stoically let me hit him. But, his face sobered quickly, his grin softening, his eyebrows knitting together. "So, I have to ask, Mel, and you don't have to tell me if it upsets you. What is your last name?"

"Harper," I answered lightly. "See, because it's my mom's last name, and it's legal and everything. I mean, that's what they called me by at the Sorting and all, wasn't it?" Fred nodded. "It _is_ my last name. You want to know what it would be." He nodded. "Gamp."

Fred's brow furrowed even more severely, and he crossed his arms over his chest as he thought. "Gamp," he murmured. He pondered some more, his eyes flicking to a spot, staring intensely for a moment, and then flicking somewhere else to do the same thing. "Where have I heard that before?" he asked me. I shrugged. How was I supposed to know?

"It is one of the family names," I suggested.

"No, I know. But…egh!" He slapped a hand to his forehead. "Why do I know that name?" He dragged his hand over his eyes and stood frozen that way for a long time. Slowly, very slowly, he withdrew his hand to reveal narrowed eyes. "That's on the family tree downstairs Place. Hesper Gamp was….Sirius's great-grandmother."

"Yes, she was," I nodded. "Her father had a brother whose son, Hesper's cousin, was disowned. He was fascinated by muggles, I know, went all over the world studying them, married some witch in the Netherlands who worked with him. But, that man's family line eventually led to my dad, who led to me. So, you see, I _am_ pureblood. There are no muggles anywhere in my family, just wizards and witches from other countries. All preserved by that one son who could carry on the Gamp name even though the English blood has been nearly overrun now."

"Why didn't you ever tell us?"

I shrugged. "I dunno. It's a lot to tell, I guess. And none of it really matters. It's just a name. Gamp, Harper, Gerplatzki; whatever my last name is doesn't change anything about me."

"No, that's totally true," Fred agreed. "But, if Georgie is going to insist on going all head over heels for you like this, there shouldn't be any secrets."

"Totally true," I nodded. Damn. "I'll tell him when he tells me."

"When he tells you _what_?" Fred made a face, and I shrugged with what I hoped looked like a coy smile.

"Like you don't know."

George had to have a secret, right? It seemed so, because Fred raised his eyebrows and grinned. He liked my train of thought, and I realized that I suddenly didn't like the idea of George keeping secrets from me.

And, that confirmed that Fred was right. I needed to tell him.

I hated when Fred was right.

* * *

><p><strong>Well, this story is winding down, believe it or not. There are still a few chapters left, and a sequel that I hope to start writing soon. I think there are three or four posts left to this one. Crazy, huh?<strong>

_**Next Chapter: **_**Assertions**


	40. Assertions

"So, Harper isn't your last name?"

"Nope," I shook my head. "To prove you could get into the girls' dormitories, you stole my knickers fourth year?"

"Yup," George nodded. "Probably still have them if I look around."

We both leaned back in our chairs, lunches forgotten about, and let out slow whistles. Once the kitchen of Grimmauld Place cleared out after breakfast, we spent our morning make revelations so Fred stopped coughing the word "_Secrets_," in his not-so-subtle way every time he saw us together. Later in the day, Fred and George promised to show me the shop, and I had sent a very pleading owl the night before to convince a cantankerous Diagon Alley landlord that I would be the perfect tenant in his flat and managed to get a viewing that evening.

Fred wandered in, saw the two of us, and immediately feigned a coughing fit. Somewhere in the middle of his hacking, "Secrets!" rang out, and George rolled his eyes.

"Let it go, mate. She told me about her name, and I told her about the knickers. Everything's fine."

Except that everything was not fine. In the conventional sense, they were, but my mind was not at ease. "Were they red?" I asked. If so, I had wrongfully blamed their disappearance on Angie and had some apologizing to do. George's eyes widened and he whirled back around to face me.

"The knickers?" I nodded. "I don't…erm, maybe? It was three years ago, Mel. I can't remember the color."

"They were," Fred confirmed.

"FRED SAW THEM?"

"Woah, hey, woah!" George held his hands up in a pacifying yet defensive gesture. "Calm down. I told you I did it to prove that I'd gone into the girls' dormitory. Who do you think I was proving it to?"

"Did _Lee_ see them?"

Fred and George shared a look that answered my question, but they turned back to me with huge grins as if I was a complete moron. "Mellie!" George beamed. "Why linger on the past? Let's think about now! Think about the wonderful sandwich I made you! Melted cheese between two pieces of toasted bread. Not every man loves his girl enough to do that, eh?" He elbowed Fred who forced out a fake laugh of support.

"That's right, Georgie, my boy. That's…that's love."

"See? Some men would've made _you_ make lunch, but not me! I did it! Myself! And…I should…I should stop, shouldn't I?" I nodded only once because that was all he needed. "Yeah, Lee saw, but he didn't know they were yours, I swear."

I opened my mouth to rip them both a new one, because this was all somehow Fred's fault as well, but the kitchen door swung open and the Order members filed in for lunch. Saved by Shepard's pie. Mrs. Weasley had worked herself into a tizzy already and was ranting in agitated whispers until the door shut and she could raise her voice. I pointed at the twins so they knew we would finish this later, and we all leapt up to both clean up from our lunch and open up the seats for the hard working adults.

"-don't think it's acceptable to even _consider_ such a thing!" she snapped when the door clicked shut. "We talked about this before, and we agreed that none of the children could join the Order. _We agreed_." Fred, George, and I froze at the sink. Our simple escape plan became a distant memory.

"I seem to recall you doing most of the talking in that one," Tonks grumbled, snagging herself a glass of water.

"We agreed!" Mrs. Weasley snapped again in case repeating it enough times would make it true. "It is too dangerous! It doesn't matter if they want to join, Alastor, we won't let them! They're _children_; they don't know what they're getting involved with!"

"Do we get to say anything about this?" Fred attempted.

"It's too dangerous for _us_ to be doing this, but at least we're informed enough to make the decision for ourselves! They're just playing at being brave-"

"That's not fair!" George snapped. Again, we were ignored.

"-don't really know what it means to face death!"

"Stop."

Fred and George both took a step away from me so they could look at me in shock, noting how my muscles had tensed with that one simple command. Mrs. Weasley, however, did not seem to even notice that I had spoken. The voice that came out of my mouth did not feel like it belonged to me; even in my worst stand-offs with Umbridge, I had never sounded so cold and harsh. "Mrs. Weasley. Stop."

"-not have _children_ out there dying over this, Alastor! I will not allow-"

"SHUT UP!" I snapped, and the room fell silent. All eyes turned to me. George made a lame reach for my hand, but the motion gave out halfway, and his arm swung back to his side limply. "Just…shut up." Mrs. Weasley blinked in astonishment and turned to her husband for an explanation. Mr. Weasley, however, just watched me carefully, as did Remus, Moody, and Tonks.

I used my hands to pull my hair into a ponytail, took a calming breath that failed miserably, and let my hair fall. "You don't get to make decisions for us. Wh-why do you think that you can make decisions for us? They might be your children," I motioned to the twins, "but we are all adults. The legal wizarding age is 17. Legal age in general is 18. We're staring 19 in the face. You can_not_ call us children. We are finished with school and have jobs of our own and don't live at home." Well, I wouldn't for much longer, and she hopefully wouldn't linger on that thought.

"And even if you could argue for them, don't you _dare _claim that you can make decisions for me. If anyone were to successfully argue that an adult should make decisions for me, the adult to do that would be my mother, who I've recently discovered is not fit to raise a child. She lost her husband 15 years ago, and she never coped with it well enough to take care of me. She tried, but she's too busy mourning the past. As much as she loves me, she's much happier now that she's not responsible for me." My letter had been a bit sketchy on details; my mother had no idea of my early departure from school and thought my return to home would only be delayed. I would have to talk to her eventually…

"If anyone makes decisions for me, she does, and she and I have parted ways now for the betterment of both of us. I make my own decisions, and my decision is to join the Order. As a _full_ member. I won't join if every step I try to take gets shot down because people think I'm too young. When the first Order formed, they were no older than we were."

"And just look what happened to them!" Molly Weasley snapped, unable to hold her tongue any longer.

"Molly," Remus murmured, keeping his eyes on my carefully. What I would have given to know what he was thinking then.

"It's not as glamorous as you think!" Molly continued. "It's dangerous. People have died-"

"You think I don't know that?" I burst again, allowing my voice to really rise. "Do you really think I don't know that Order members die young? Do you know what I do?" Molly frowned at me. I turned to George. "Does she?" He shook his head and found great interest in the floor, so I turned to Remus. "Do you know? Did Dumbledore tell you?"

"No," Remus shook his head slowly. His eyes scanned me as he tried to figure out what I meant.

"I have the Sight." I saw Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's eyes widen in surprise. Tonks grinned and nodded, obviously impressed. Moody and Remus looked unfazed, as if I had told them it was a sunny day. It should have affected them. It affected _me_. I had never said it so plainly before, so matter-of-factly. So, I naturally backtracked to downplay the whole thing. "Sort of. I get Feelings, like hyper-intuition. It used to be just little things, but ever since I started at Hogwarts…ever since _Harry Potter_ started, it's been so much stronger than that. The things I Know…_I _should be telling _you_ how dangerous it is. Trust me, Molly Weasley, you have no idea what's coming. I do, and I'm joining anyway." I turned to Moody. "Provided you'll have me."

The room was silent for quite a while, but none of the Order members looked at each other. If they were deciding what to do with me, they were not deciding together. I swallowed nervously; now that I had stopped yelling, my body remembered that I typically did not yell because of how foolish it made me feel afterwards. I wanted to turn to George, but I couldn't. This was my fight, not his. This time I had to stand on my own two feet.

"Well, I don't see how fighting you would do me any good," Moody shrugged. "She's in." With that, he limped towards the door.

Molly Weasley began to sputter what I assumed was a protest, but Tonks cut her off. "I agree. We could use a good potion maker."

"You can't deny that she knows the danger," Remus added, turning to Molly. "She was with them in the Department of Mysteries. She went to protect your son. I think we can all say that she did a good job."

"What about us?" Fred asked, and George looked up eagerly.

Mrs. Weasley immediately protested. "Absol-"

Moody tossed his arms up in the air. "Oh, let's just make it a family production," he grunted dryly. "Anybody else want to join? I'm in a giving mood."

"Alastor!" Moody ignored Mrs. Weasley's protest, so she turned to her husband. "Arthur, they will not join. Tell them! Tell them they can't!"

"When have I ever been able to tell them what to do?" he sighed, massaging his forehead wearily. I'm not sure if he was stressed more by his wife or his children, but Mr. Weasley had all the signs of a beaten man – hunched shoulders, crossed arms, drooping eyes.

"Are you sure?" Remus asked. "You understand that the Department of Mysteries was not the worst of what we will have to do." The three of us nodded; both boys linked their fingers through mine. Whatever we would face, we would face together. "Then, I don't see what all the fuss is."

"Exactly!" Moody nodded. "I just want some damn food."

* * *

><p><strong>I feel the need to apologize; I am terrible at writing Moody! I know, I know, and I'm sorry! On another note, WOW! 80 reviews! That's amazing to me! Thank you guys so much for all your comments and for sticking with my story.<strong>

_**Next Chapter:**_** Homecomings**


	41. Homecomings

"You're mad."

"I'm not mad."

George made quite a production out of blowing every bit of air out of his lungs. Still, he kept his hands firmly clasped together on his stomach as he lay next to me on the bed, not allowing any part of himself to touch me. I was _not _mad. I just did not want him touching me.

"I didn't know you were talking to your mother on the…thoney. If I did, we wouldn't have thrown the fireworks in. I'm sorry."

"Telephone. It's called a telephone. And you don't need to apologize. I _told_ you…_I'm not mad_."

Fred cleared his throat and carefully inserted, "You sound pretty mad." I rolled my head up from the pillow to glare at him, found the position extremely uncomfortable, and dropped back down. "But, hey! I could be wrong. I'm just the bloke with the icepack on his forehead. What do I know? Don't get mad at me!"

"I'M. NOT. MAD!" With my outburst, I sat straight up and chucked the pillow at Fred in such a smooth motion that he did not expect the projectile. Direct hit. It got him right in the face, and he whined on impact about how it wasn't fair to throw things at him when he couldn't defend himself, which was true enough.

"Oy!" George exclaimed, bolting up to grab my arms. "Calm down. I know, I know!" He held up his free hand to stop my protests. "You're not mad. But…you're all excitable. Breathe. You've been worked up ever since you got us into the Order earlier, and you really need to calm down before we go out. We _are_ still going out, right?" I nodded. "So, breathe. Here, do it with me. In." He waved his hand up from his waist to his shoulders and dramatically sucked in air. "Out." He pushed his hand down and whooshed all the air out of his lungs.

"She didn't do it," Fred tattled. I glared. "You didn't! Stop looking at me like that! I feel like we're back at school, and there's a _reason_ I left."

I snorted and grinned grudgingly. All right, yes, these boys could drive me to insanity, but I wasn't upset with them. So, I followed George's ridiculous breathing pattern a few times until I actually felt calmer. He raised his eyebrows in a silent question. _Better?_ I nodded. _Yes. Better. Much better_.

"I just wanted to talk to my mum about moving out, y'know, before I look at this apartment. And she started going on about how I had to feed myself. She didn't think I would _feed myself_, George. The woman who birthed me thinks I am so incompetent that I'll forget I need to eat until it's too late and I starve. To death."

"Breathe," he ordered again, and he refused to respond until I did the slow inhale/exhale he wanted. "Good. Now. You and I both know that's not what she meant. She worries. You're mum and my mum would be brilliant pals in that department. She does it because she loves you."

"But, she doesn't," I shook my head. "See, I get that now. It's not about _me_. It's about _him_." The boys frowned at me. It could be such a nuisance to be brilliant. "Don't you see? It's about my father. Not me. She cares so much about keeping me safe because she couldn't keep him safe. That's what it's always been. She's just trying to hold on to the family she lost a long time ago." George opened his mouth, but I clapped my hand over it. "I'm not saying she doesn't love me. She _does_. She's just lost. And I don't need to deal with lost. I need to deal with Voldemort and finding somewhere to live and keeping you two out of trouble. I don't need to deal with her issues."

I uncovered George's mouth and nodded firmly so they knew my speech was over. Fred spoke first. "I think we keep ourselves out of trouble just fine without you."

"No, you don't."

"We do all right, really," George shrugged, siding with his brother. Typical. Twins; what can you do? "Sorry I made you mad with the fireworks, but they were Fred's idea."

"Oy!"

"Well, they were!"

I laughed at my boys and pulled George into a hug. "It's fine," I told his shoulder as he swayed me back and forth gently. "I'm really not mad. I was just frustrated at your mum and _my _mum, and then you guys interrupted." I turned my head so my cheek rested on George's shoulder and offered Fred a weak smile. "Sorry I hexed you."

"S'all right," Fred shrugged, pulling the ice away from his forehead. "I think the swelling's mostly gone down." He looked at us expectantly, but George and I had to look at each other to silently decide whether or not to tell him that, no, he most certainly still had a diamond-shaped lump on his forehead from my spell. We decided against it.

"Looks great, mate," George nodded, giving his brother a thumbs-up. "Now, could you turn the…phone?" I nodded. "Phone back into my shoe. I need both of them to leave the house. Unless you're fine with me venturing around the world in a sock."

FGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFGFG

93 Diagon Alley was brimming with promise in the hazy shadow of late afternoon. Beams of sunlight illuminated sparse specks of dust floating through the air, remnants of the last shop to close up and sit around untouched until two dreaming gingers found it. The room was still and silent, the shelves and shelves of products just waiting for tricksters to browse through them.

"What d'you think?" George asked. The brothers beamed at me with matching expectant grins. I stepped forward and slowly rotated to see the whole room – the Skiving Snackboxes, the Wildfire Whiz-Bangs, the trick wands, the boxes of Daydream Charms waiting for the patent to come through so they could go out on the shelve. It was more than I could ever have imagined.

"It's beautiful," I breathed. The twins grinned at each other, and then George stepped forward to meet me, taking my hand in his.

"We have room for some of your stuff. Right there," George cocked his head towards an empty display cabinet. "You mentioned love potions and all, right? Well, we thought, why not a whole line of female-oriented products. Pimple removers and love potions and…whatever you can think of."

"We don't really know the feminine mind that well," Fred added. George nodded.

"What'd'you say?"

I grinned. "Yeah! Yes! That's sounds _brill_, George! I can't wait to get started on it." With that, I rotated my head to look at the shop again, ideas for _WonderWitch_, as my mind already started calling my very own product line, whizzing through my head. Hair straightening charms and, conversely, hair curling charms and necklace that smell like flowers or cinnamon or apple pie when their counterparts are nearby (perfect for best friends) and…oh, the possibilities!

"You really like it?"

"George, I love it. You boys are going to do great with this shop!"

"_We _will, Mel," George corrected. "You're part of this, too."

"You're family," Fred agreed.

As overwhelmingly sweet as it was, I shook my head while simultaneously blinking back tears. "This shop is your dream, your baby. Not mine."

"Well, obviously," Fred snorted, "but you are our employee, remember? Your skill is a massive part of this place."

"Aw, George, did you hear that? Fred thinks I have skills!"

George whirled on his brother. "Oy, get your own girlfriend. Stop sweet-talking mine."

"It's not my fault if she wants to upgrade."

We all laughed. "All right, you two," I grinned, "You'll have to fight over me some other time. I've got an apartment to look at."

Fred cleared his throat loudly and kicked his brother's shoe. George stumbled and glared at Fred, but shifted his gaze to me. He rubbed the back of his head and swallowed swiftly.

"About that…"

"George, I'm going to be late." I tapped my foot for emphasis as I slung my purse back over my shoulder. Only luck got me to look at this apartment at all; I desperately needed my own place, something away from my mother. Any day now, she would start wondering where I was; my phone call had done more harm than good since it failed so miserably. She would have thought I was still at Hogwarts for another week or so if I hadn't contacted her, but now she knew I was not. And that was _not_ to my advantage.

"Yeah, but you could just…not look at it."

"I'm not getting an apartment sight unseen!"

"No," George sighed, exasperated. "That's not…you're impossible…" Fred snorted. "You could, erm, just, y'know…we've got the space upstairs…so, eh, y'could…move in with me?"

Oh. _Oh. _"Oh!" A hand fluttered over my mouth. "Oh, George, really?" He nodded hopefully, so I looked to Fred for confirmation. "Really?" This wasn't a dream?

"Yeah. You cook, right?"

"I'll hex you," I laughed. "Oh, George." I threw my arms around him, my body slapping hard against his. He staggered back from the sudden weight, but returned my hug when he was balanced.

"That's a yes, then, right?"

I laughed as I loosened my hold and pulled away, arms still around him. "Of course that's a yes!"

A home. I finally had a home.

I had a family and a home. I belonged.

* * *

><p><strong>So, this is the last post of the story. WHAT? I know. I'm amazed, too. But there's an epilogue coming up. If you don't plan to read the sequel, you probably shouldn't read the epilogue. Just a warnin'. Thank you all SO SO MUCH for reading and reviewing all this time. I know posts have been sporadic, and I cannot apologize for that enough! But, you have all been just so amazing! Amazing!<strong>

_**Next chapter: **_**Epilogue – Honesty and Cups of Tea**


	42. Epilogue:  Honesty and Cups of Tea

It was odd how, in the languid days following my move to the flat above Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, everything seemed so simple. Life was how it should be: simple, easy, full of love and laughter. Pranks were set on each other in the name of business. We shared laughs over how excruciatingly awkward Mrs. Weasley made us all feel when she decided it was time to give George and me "the talk". Shelves were stocked and new items were produced and our family came together as the shop did. I even had my first full night's sleep in months; Fred, George and I fell asleep in a heap, me tucked firmly in between the two boys with my head on George's chest and an indeterminate tangle of arms wrapped around me, after a long day of inventing. In the morning, we regretted falling asleep on the hard floor of the shop, but it was worth it.

But, those times could not last. Sleep still came to me fitfully. Eventually, Hogwarts let out, and Fred retreated to a dark, grumpy place every time an owl came through the window. The letters were always from Angie, and they never seemed to bring him the words he wanted to hear. He would never talk about it, though, or at least not with me. If he shared his romantic troubles with George, I knew nothing about it. My mother and I eventually sat down in person to discuss my living situation, during which I threw a teacup at the wall while she told me the various ways he would leave me high and dry in the world, and ended with a big hug and some tears and the promise to write often. Because we were family, and that's what family does.

We all knew, though, that there were more serious issues lurking in the shadows than overbearing mothers and stumbling love lives. Digging through my trunk one day, the trunk from Hogwarts that I never fully unpacked with all the moving I'd been doing, I found that recipe. The one for the potion I made early in the year. The potion that could buy me a few minutes to get the truth out without anyone knowing. True, I didn't know if it actually worked; Professor Snape had a fondness for messing with my mind. But, I had to try. I fought the idea for days, but my mind refused to let it go until I finally gave in and decided to take action.

When I woke up in the wee hours of the morning, as was still customary despite the occasional restful night, I made no effort to keep quiet. Instead, I purposely stubbed my toe quite loudly, swore at the bedpost for getting in my way, and closed the door with nowhere near my normal amount of stealth. George was awake. He had to be. I put on enough water for two cups of tea and carefully emptied in the phial, pouring my potion brewed carefully during sleepless nights at Hogwarts into George's mug.

I had just emptied the last of it into the seeping tea when someone cleared their throat in the doorway. The sound played with my already shaking nerves so badly that I yelped and dropped the phial onto the floor; it shattered instantly, and I swore at it.

"Sorry!" George apologized instantly as I waved my hands so the glass flew into the bin. "Didn't mean to startle you. Sleeping potion?"

"Wha…oh." His trust made my stomach twist into a knot. "Something like that. Did I wake you up?"

He shrugged and pushed of the doorframe. "How's your foot?"

"Hurts." Not a lie. Thinking back, I probably didn't _actually_ have to stub my toe to wake him up. That might have been a bit extreme. "I, erm, knew I was kind of loud. Tea?"

"Thanks," he smiled, taking the cup I motioned to. "This isn't the one with sleeping potion in it, right?"

"There's no sleeping potion in your tea," I assured him with a weak smile as we took our mugs to the table and sat down.

I looked around the kitchen of 93 Diagon Alley nervously, and George watched me carefully over the brim of his mug as he took a slow sip. That only made me shift more uncomfortably in my chair until he finally put the tea down and take my hands in his.

"Mel," he bore his eyes into mine, "what's wrong?"

Why did he have to ask that? He knew I had to answer him. He knew I could never keep things from him so long as he just asked about it. My lip quivered and I wished that I did not have to go through with this, but that would have been ridiculous. I had to tell him finally. He deserved to know. And, if things went well tonight, I would tell him for real. Probably. I gently pulled my hands from his.

"I need to tell you something."

"So I gathered," he nodded, leaning forward in his chair towards me. He took a quick sip of tea and put the mug back down. "You don't hide your nerves well. What is it?"

I took a deep breath and held it in. When I let it out, I felt no calmer, and I cursed my tried-and-true calming method for letting me down when I needed it most. "Things are wrong."

"How so?"

"This isn't…it's not easy for me to say, and it isn't going to any easier for you to hear. I've lied to you." George snorted like that was a ridiculous notion, but I could see the worry buried in his eyes. It was almost enough to stop me, but I was too invested to back out. "We've got it all backwards. You aren't…you aren't supposed to be with me. It's supposed to be you and Angie, y'know?" I looked aside so I didn't have to see the mixture confusion and absurdity on his face. "And Fred was…supposed to be…" This one was harder to say. It was painful to think of George with Angie, but it was impossible to imagine being with Fred the way I was with him. They weren't the same. "Fred was supposed to be with me."

"Where are you getting this from?" George attempted to laugh, but it just sounded choked. He was nervous, afraid of where the conversation was going, what made me bring it up, why I waited until the dead of night and could barely say the words. "This isn't one of your Feelings, is it?"

"No," I laughed bitterly. "Not really. Not that part. But it's…based off that."

"So, then, why are you worried about it? Nothing's wrong."

"It would just be easier for you. George," for this part, I had to look at him even though tears threatened to spill down my cheeks and I was swallowing around a lump in my throat, "there's going to be a war. Vol…" Despite everything I'd been through and knew I would go through, I still couldn't bring myself to say his name, "You-Know-Who is going to rise as high as he's ever been. Hogwarts is going to fall. The Death Eaters are going to hunt Harry down, and we'll have to protect him. I've just got all these…pieces of it in my head. Snape's going to be killed over the woman he loved, and…and Neville's going to be the bravest of us all, and…"

"Mel," George interrupted, cupping my chin in his hand to stop my rambling.

"Fred and I are going to die."

At first, I wasn't sure George heard me. He didn't move, didn't blink, didn't even change the look on his face. And then his hand fell from my chin. He leaned back in his chair, blinked rapidly, and ran his hands through his hair. He let out a huge, long, shaky sigh. As he studied my face, he bit his bottom lip and blinked fiercely to hold back the tears that I gave up and let roll down my face.

"Not at the same time…"

"Stop."

"George, I need to…"

"Mel, _no_," he insisted firmly. "I don't…I can't…" He looked to the side to hide that his eyes had that familiar shine to them.

"George, please," I begged, taking his hands in mine.

"No!" he shook his head and grasped my hands tightly. "I'm not listening to how you die, Mel. I can't do that. I can't listen…I can't lose you two. I can't…"

I leaned towards him to rest my forehead against his, and he instinctively rubbed his nose against mine. Things like that felt so natural and so damn right that I hated myself. I hated that I couldn't walk away. I hated that I couldn't say no to him. I hated what I would put him through.

"That's why everything's wrong. It would be so much easier if you were with Angie. If Fred and I were…"

"Stop," George pleaded, voice barely above a whisper.

"It's true," I insisted softly.

"So…what?" he pulled his head away from mine. "Are you leaving me? Is that why you're telling me this?"

I wished I was that strong. "No. No, I'm not leaving you. I can't walk away now. This would all be so much easier if I didn't love you, but I couldn't stop it."

"I love you, too. And I'm not going to leave you, either. I'll be with you right 'til the end, which won't be until we are wrinkled old prunes, because you are going to _live_. Now that I know, there's no wizard in the world that could stop me from protecting you."

I smiled at the certainty in his words, and my heart hurt. He had no idea.

"I have to ask, though," he continued, leaning back and taking another sip of tea, "how you know so much about…how it…happens. You don't normally get details."

"Yeah, well," I shrugged and watched him swallow his tea, "that hasn't changed. I don't Know any details. I just know there's a war coming, and I won't…see the end of it."

"How long have you known?"

"Since I first saw him."

"Harry?" he asked solemnly.

I nodded. "I Knew when I saw him get sorted that I would die protecting him."

"Yeah, okay, but that doesn't mean it's going to be any time soon. That could be decades away."

"It's not."

"Since when do you get time frames on these things? You've only ever gotten the…the slightest _notion_!" George exclaimed. I knew he was not upset with me, but it still hurt to see him lose his temper.

"Things have been stronger lately," I mumbled to my hands. "More coherent. I don't know why."

George frowned thoughtfully and brushed the hair out of my eyes. As upset as he was, he wouldn't take it out on me. "It's probably all the dark magic out there. It's upsetting the balance, throwing you off."

"Maybe," I agreed. I doubted it, but I didn't have enough time to tell him my theory. I didn't have time to explain that I thought my precognition was getting stronger because I loved him, that maybe finding my other half was helping me come into my full abilities.

It was only a theory, anyway.

George took one last sip of his tea. His face went blank for a second, and he frowned into the bottom of his cup. Then, he looked at me, his eyes widened in surprise, and he immediately started wiping the remaining tears from my face. "Mel? Mel, what's wrong? Why're you crying?"

I laughed as his hands flew clumsily over my face. "George. George!" I took his hands in mine and put them back on his lap. "I'm fine. I just…had a nightmare. Remember? It's all better now. Stubbed my toe, came down for some tea."

"Oh," he frowned again. "Y-yeah. Of course I remember that."

I forced a laugh, brushed the hair off of his forehead, and planted a kiss on the now exposed skin. "I love you, you stupid dunderhead. G'night." I could at least tell him that for real.

"I-I love you, too."

I left him to sit in the kitchen and took the stairs as quickly as I could to get away from George. I couldn't stay in the room with him anymore. I couldn't bear to remind myself that I'd just given the man I loved a memory potion so I could unload my secrets without him ever knowing.

When I got to my room, I left the lights out, curled under my blankets without changing my clothes, buried my face in my pillow, and let the tears fall silently so I could get them out before he made his way back upstairs.

How had I gone so wrong?

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you all SO much for reading and reviewing this story. It has been so much fun to write. I hope to have the sequel up within a few weeks, definitely by May. So, keep an eye out for it if you're interested. Mel's story isn't finished yet!<strong>


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